Dreams Fulfilled
by Lucretia Skelington
Summary: It's New Year's Eve and Queen Clarisse's last ball...and you are invited! Last chapter- a sweet ending. If you enjoyed it, please drop me a note! Dreams Fulfilled is a sequel to Different Worlds and Worlds Apart. Rated Teen to be safe. C&J, of course.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Diaries or anything to do with Princess Diaries- Disney and Meg Cabot owns it. This is an amateur work of fiction and is in no way intended to infringe upon their rights. I make no money from this. _

* * *

Dreams Fulfilled

Chapter 1

"If you will excuse me, Your Majesty," he repeated with a slight bow. He bowed slightly, then, with his back ramrod straight, walked out into the night.

_She had turned him down!_

Joseph strode down the familiar path, barely able to think, the raw pain and disbelief numbing his ability to reason. Reaching the garden gate, he shoved the wrought iron bolt aside and roughly flung it open to enter a small area topped by a honeysuckle-covered lattice. The vines hung low, partially blocking the brightness of a security light and the view from the back entrance area. Glad for the privacy, Joseph stopped, hands on his hips and tried to slow his breathing.

He had lost Clarisse.

_No, he'd never had her._

Dropping onto a wooden bench, Joseph scrubbed his hands across his face then rested his forearms on his thighs, staring at the dappled pattern of light on the gravel as a crushing weight of disappointment settled in his heart.

_What had gone wrong?_

He had been so certain, yet she had refused him. The shared confidences… her gentle touch and affectionate glances when none was necessary- did they mean _nothing_?

It could not a matter of another man. As the Royal Head of Security, he was privy to every moment of his sovereign's days…and nights. He knew when Her Majesty was in her apartments and, if she were entertaining company, he knew the arrival and departure times of her guests to the very minute. When visiting another palace and not present in the room with her, it was his responsibility to wait discretely within sight of the door. For her to have a secret relationship was virtually impossible.

It was true Clarisse had never declared any deep feelings for him, but neither had he until that day in the garden. Still, he had been confident she cared for him. Instead of love, however, it had been merely friendship.

Letting his breath out in a noisy rush, Joseph raised his head and leaned back against the wooden slats of the bench. He was a _fool! _He should have seen it coming. On the day he proposed in the gazebo, he should have realized from her hesitation that she would not accept. Had she loved him, she would have joyfully agreed.

He had thought her need for time was simply due to pressure from the upcoming wedding and coronation. The past weeks had been a whirlwind of activity for Clarisse and her days had been filled with diplomatic issues, wedding details, and the difficulties with Mabrey and Nicholas, not to mention the princess.

Too, he would bet Clarisse had never made a spur of the moment decision in her life. She was the type to think through every decision thoroughly for days or weeks if need be.This need to deliberate on a problem was something he understood. He did the same thing except he was used to running through his options and making judgment calls within minutes or even seconds. Without a doubt, he had certainly blown this one.

And her refusal claiming the demands duty and responsibility- he did not understand that at all. This was a _personal_ matter, yet she had used her royal position as an excuse! Was Clarisse afraid to say she did not love him? Was she afraid to be honest with him? What did she think he would do- make a scene or humiliate her in front of her staff or family or friends?

Was she worried that others might learn of his feelings for her, causing her embarrassment? While careful not to overstep bounds of propriety, he had never hid his caring about her- he wasn't ashamed! Was _she_ ashamed of his love for her? The ache in his chest tightened at the thought.

Even if true, that wouldn't explain her excuses. With understanding suddenly dawning, Joseph groaned.

Clarisse felt _sorry_ for him.

Like a raw cut, the realization stung more than anything else did. He saw it now- the weeks before giving him an answer, the evasion, the times she could not meet his gaze… Clarisse was trying to spare his feelings. He'd seen the regret in her eyes and the pity, the unvoiced plea to forgive her for not loving him.

The ability to read people was the crux of his profession, and the lives of those he protected depended on it. How could he have missed seeing that her regard for him was, at the very most, only that of a valued companion? Had his love had made him blind?

Joseph took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn't matter now. He would never have her in his life. Today, tomorrow…never. Nothing could be the same between them, either. Once words of such deep emotions were spoken, they could not be ignored…or withdrawn.

With slowed steps, Joseph left the trellis and headed to the door at the far end of the wing. His world may have fallen apart, but he still had a job to do protecting his queen.

* * *

Studying a schedule, Shades was at the computer when Joseph entered the Security Center and despite it being evening, two more agents were still at work making arrangements for visiting dignitaries. They would be running extended shifts until the ceremonies were over and the guests had departed.

"Hi," the younger man called out, barely glancing up from the screen. "We have all the VIP arrival times confirmed and escorts assigned for each one. What did you want to do about-" Shades stopped when he saw Joseph's expression. "Sir, is everything okay?" His boss always looked rather stern, but there was something different about him tonight.

"Everything is fine," Joseph replied curtly, sitting down at another monitor and calling up the queen's list of appointments. Seeing no updates from Charlotte, he brought up the security assignments for the next three days, made several changes, and then printed two copies.

"I'd like to speak with you in my office," he said, leaving without waiting for a reply. Shades shot a glance at Anton, who shrugged and turned back to charting the coronation parade route and security posts.

Once seated at his desk, Joseph came to the point. "I'm making several alterations in the assignments. The most important one is that you will act as Her Majesty's personal guard from now on." Surprised, Shades stared at Joseph. "I will be retiring shortly and if you are interested, I will recommend you to Princess Mia as my replacement."

Shade's jaw dropped at the announcement. "Retiring? I didn't know you were even considering it, sir."

Joseph fiddled with a pencil, looking away. "It was a recent decision. How do you feel about taking over?"

"I'd like the opportunity," Shades replied, sitting up straighter in the chair. "When do you plan to retire?"

"Two weeks. If necessary, I can be available to advise and help you with the transition for a few extra days." He looked at Shades and continued sincerely. "I don't think you will have any difficulty. You'll do a fine job."

"Thank you, sir," Shades answered, his bewilderment preventing him from fully enjoying the compliment. Just what was going on? Joseph leaving? What about him and the queen? He chose his words carefully. "Is anyone else aware you will be retiring?"

"I haven't informed the palace yet," Joseph replied tersely, "but, it's important you know now so we plan now for a seamless transition."

"I'll do whatever you say," Shades hurriedly assured him. Not even the queen knew?

"Good. Here are the changes for the coming four days," Joseph said, handing Shades a copy of the printouts. "Her Majesty will be your primary responsibility. If you so choose, you may later assign other agents to her. However, until I am no longer in charge it will be you and at least one other agent watching her at all times, in addition to support positions."

"I understand, sir."

"There are still matters to be resolved concerning the church and reception, so I will attend to those," Joseph continued quickly, wanting to finish and leave. "I should be at the palace by late afternoon each day, but don't hesitate to call if you have any questions that cannot wait. While I will provide backup coverage for the ball, at tomorrow night's reception I will not be part of the inside team."

At Shade's look of astonishment, he quickly continued. "I _will_ be on the street and wired." Joseph managed a quick smile in hopes of putting Shades at ease. "I want you to run the show by yourself- get experience now, while I'm still here. So, take a look at the schedule for the coming weeks and make adjustments to the assignments you think are necessary. I'll stop by here tomorrow- run them by me then."

The younger man nodded slowly.

Joseph replaced the schedule with a diagram and pointed to marks on the church floor plan. "These are the changes for the wedding- Anton and Hans will be forward on the left, here, with Pearson and Mel to the right. You will be up front with Her Majesty, as will Lionel- in the far corner."

Shades started to protest but wisely thought better of it.

"I will be positioned at the narthex with Princess Mia and will remain there until she and Andrew Jacoby exit. At that point, Anton and I will accompany the couple with Hans, while you, Pearson, and Mel accompany Her Majesty. Darrell and Lionel will oversee the departure of guests and coordinate with visiting security."

Joseph looked up to make sure Shades was clear on the changes. "I will use the remainder of my notice to finish preparations for your assuming the position of authority and to prepare for my departure. Any questions?"

"No, sir. But, I'll hate to see you go, sir- we all will," Shades said slowly, leaning back in his chair. "We always thought…that is, we never expected you to leave like this." Gathering papers he would need for the next day, Joseph was silent. "May I ask if you will be staying in Genovia?"

"No. I will be moving out of the country." Snapping his briefcase closed, Joseph stood to leave.

When the door slammed shut behind his boss, Shades was still standing by his desk, hands in his pockets, trying in vain to make sense of what he'd just heard.

* * *

Far from restful, her night had been one of the most difficult Clarisse could remember and she awoke the next morning with a headache and deep sense of unease. Taking breakfast in her room had given her extra time to think about Joseph more clearly in private. Over the remains of her morning tea, she sat in the subdued light of her living room and recalled the previous evening while trying to be totally truthful with herself.

Joseph was her most trusted friend as well as employee. He had seen her through the nightmare of her husband and son's deaths as well as the renewing of family ties with Amelia, and had given invaluable comfort, support, and straightforward counsel. When she had become too accustomed to mourning, Joseph had brought her out from her shell of withdrawal.

For all this, she was profoundly grateful. While other friends had generously supported her, it was _his_ strength she had chosen to rely on so many, many times. Through it all, he had never wavered and had never asked for anything in return.

While his position required his close presence, Clarisse was aware Joseph had gone well beyond his duties as Head of Security, looking out for not just her safety but also her well-being and peace of mind. Even though no one else could be aware or have noticed, she had used him not just as a guard, but had often relied on him as a companion both socially and privately.

Truthfully, she enjoyed his being near and the extra attention he gave her. It made her feel special and beautiful…even young. Under different circumstances, she would have welcomed their friendship developing into something deeper. But, circumstances were what they were and there was a line she could not cross.

She had assumed a lifelong duty upon her commitment to marry Rupert and her primary responsibility from that moment on was to the people of her new country. Personal needs were second and always would be…even if they involved matters of the heart.

And Joseph was most certainly a matter of the heart. She cared _very_ deeply for Joseph, and the thought frightened her enormously.

Because they both acknowledged the fact that their love for each other was different from that of romantic desire, her marriage to Rupert had been a safe and comfortable one with little risk. Too, there had never been a question of the marriage failing since divorce was out of the question. Her marriage had been a cocoon sheltering her from emotions she had never had to deal with- until now.

Desire and indecision swirled within Clarisse, confusing her.

She was not certain of who she truly was. Her actions, her thoughts, her plans and goals all revolved around _what_ she was, not who. Never before had there been a need to search deep inside her heart. To open her private thoughts and passions without restraint to another…

Clarisse abruptly came to her feet and paced restlessly across the room to the window, distressed at the very thought of such emotional intimacy.

The situation was best considered from a practical, _rational_ point of view, she decided. By far, reason was essential when all aspects of a situation must be weighed and she was certain it would work in this case. Resolute, Clarisse began.

First, there were the social considerations. Were she to agree to his offer, marriage to Joseph, a commoner, would not be accepted. Genovia was a small country, which clung stubbornly to its customs and standards and the people expected their sovereign to uphold traditions, not disregard them.

When she was a young girl, she knew that her parents and Genovia's king and queen had agreed on her betrothal to Rupert. These sorts of things were arranged, and royal marriages were to strengthen the ties between countries and reinforce policies of cooperation between them. No Genovian monarch had _ever_ married outside of another royal or titled family of Europe. _It just wasn't done_.

Moreover, her duties would not end when Mia assumed the throne and she would be required to attend numerous social and political functions throughout Europe, taking nearly all her time and energy and leaving little to devote to a marriage. She would be mingling with the continent's wealthiest and oldest families who could be just as severe in its judgments as her people.

Joseph Coraza might be the equal of any man- the better of most- but if they were to marry, Joseph would be seen as above his station. While no one would dare make an outright derisive comment to Joseph in her presence, the upper classes could cut just as deeply and devastatingly without uttering a single, solitary word. Clarisse stopped pacing, her thoughts in order.

The world she lived in was a different one from that of ordinary people and she could never be more than friends with Joseph. _Her heart was not hers to give and that was simply the way it was._

Nevertheless, even if unable to marry, she unquestionably wanted them to remain close. Absolutely no one publicly or privately knew of his feelings for her or of her regard for him. They could resume their friendship where they had left off and no one would be the wiser. There would be no talk or gossip.

He was disappointed and hurt from last night, true, but Joseph was a man to see situations clearly. Once she explained her position, he, too, would wish to continue their relationship as before and would eventually agree it was for the best.

Determined, and her mind much more at ease, Clarisse left for her office. She would speak to him first thing that morning. The sooner the situation was settled, the better for both of them.

* * *

His appetite deserting him, Shades looked at the remains of his roast beef sandwich then put it back on his plate. Across from him, Charlotte was picking at her salad, more quiet than usual. Both of them were extremely busy in these last days before the wedding, but by chance had errands in town and were able to have a quick lunch together.

A night's sleep for Shades hadn't made any more sense of Joseph's announcement and he was, in fact, more confused than before. Everyone had expected him to marry Queen Clarisse before now. For the past few years, the boys in the security department even had a betting pool going on the date Joseph and the queen married and Shades would give good odds every other department in the palace was doing the same.

Why the sudden turnaround?

"I'm to become the new Head of Royal Security," he said slowly, watching Charlotte's face. He saw surprise, but not as much as he had expected. "I'm running things from tonight on- subject to Joseph's approval, of course."

Charlotte stabbed at a cherry tomato but made no effort to eat it. "What about Joseph?" she asked without looking up.

Shades hesitated. He'd promised not to say anything about Joseph's retirement, but something just wasn't right and he needed to know what it was. Charlotte was the queen's aide. If anyone else knew the story, it would be she. "He's retiring."

"Oh." Charlotte frowned, her attention now fully on Shades. "When?"

"In two weeks. Look, this hasn't been announced, so…"

"I won't say anything," she quickly assured him. She started to add more then bit her lip.

"You know something about this?" Shades asked. She didn't reply and he pressed harder. "This has to do with the queen, doesn't it?"

Charlotte shook her head. "I can't say. It's…"

Shades leaned over the table and dropped his voice. "Look, Joseph beat two important lessons into our heads – one, that we were to keep what we saw or heard to ourselves, and two, _anything_ that might affect the queen was our business."

Charlotte stared at her plate.

"I'd say that having Joseph suddenly announce he's retiring and leaving Genovia affects-"

"He's leaving?" Charlotte exclaimed looking up, her fork hitting the plate with a _thunk_.

Shades nodded. "He'll be here for two weeks wrapping things up then he's gone."

Sitting back in her chair, Charlotte took a deep breath and let it out. "Yes, I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the queen."

"Pretty sure?"

"I overheard them talking yesterday," she answered quietly, then quickly explained, "I was on the landing and I didn't mean to-"

Shades waved a hand impatiently. "I know you weren't eavesdropping! What happened? Did they argue or…what?"

"She turned him down," Charlotte whispered.

"Turned him down?" Shade's face twisted in confusion. As second in charge, he was usually aware of what went on around the palace and in all the years he'd known Joseph Coraza, not once had the man ever slipped off to the royal apartments. He found this new information hard to believe. "What? You mean Joseph propositioned Quee-"

"No, you idiot!" Charlotte hissed. "He _proposed_ to her. And keep your voice down!"

"Oh," he said contritely, grimacing in embarrassment. All the same, it still didn't make sense. "I can't believe she would turn him down just because he's…well, he's a commoner. That's archaic!"

"I don't think that was the grounds, really," she replied, "but I'm not sure what the queen's reasons were…he wouldn't listen, so…"

"They love each other!" he blurted out, then scowled, his face reddening. Men didn't discuss such things and it was far too close to his feelings for Charlotte. Even so, Shades decided he didn't care. His fist hit the table and she jumped. "It's not right and there _can't_ be someone else. She's-" Shades broke off as several nearby customers turned to look.

"There isn't," Charlotte agreed quickly. "I thought after she turned the crown over to Princess Mia, she and Joseph might work things out. But, if he's leaving…"

"He is."

Charlotte sighed and gathered her purse. "They really are perfect for each other."

Shades pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table. "Well, I don't see how we can do anything about it," he grumbled. "I don't mind taking over- I hoped that one day I might, but I sure don't like doing it this way."

* * *

It late afternoon before Clarisse had the opportunity to speak with Joseph. She had expected him at her early morning briefing, but it was Shades who had joined her and her staff at the table. As the morning grew later, she was bothered by Joseph's absence and under the pretense of inquiring about the arrangements for the evening's reception had asked the agent positioned in the hallway if Joseph were on the grounds. He was not.

Now, she sat listening as Shades finished his report on his department's plans for the coming days. Earlier, when Charlotte had reminded her of the meeting, mentioning that Shades was on his way, Clarisse had requested Joseph come also, saying she might have questions concerning the royal guests' arrangements.

Other than a civil "good afternoon," Joseph had only spoken when she specifically addressed a question to him. His behavior had been polite and distant- nothing more.

"Does Your Majesty have any further questions?" Shades asked.

"No, I believe you have covered it well. Thank you," Clarisse replied, wishing Joseph would at least look at her.

Inclining his head, Shades picked up the diagram and time schedule. He and Joseph came to their feet, as did Charlotte.

"If you will excuse us, then," the agent said, giving her a small bow before moving away to leave with his boss.

"Joseph, may I have a word, please?" Clarisse's heart beat faster. She wasn't going to let him walk away this time! This matter needed to be straightened out _now_ so they could get things back to normal between them.

Joseph hesitated then spoke to Shades before facing her, hands clasped behind him, almost at attention. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

Clarisse waited until the other two were well out of the room before coming around her desk to stand in front of him. "Since you were not here this morning, we've not had an opportunity to speak," she began.

"I am sorry. There were duties to attend to, Your Majesty," Joseph replied, his gaze focused on a point just above her left shoulder.

He looked tired. Had his night been a restless one, too? Clarisse's heart softened- he regretted walking out on her and was just as upset over this as she. "I hardly slept last night," she said gently. "I was worried about you."

"No need, Your Majesty. I am fine," he answered matter-of-factly, shifting his line of sight to at a point just over her head.

She waited, but Joseph remained silent. He was probably trying to work out how to apologize. She smiled. Dear Joseph. He was such a very careful and controlled man. This must be hard for him. No matter; she would graciously brush aside his request for forgiveness and suggest a long walk in the garden later in the evening. That would set things to right between them. Her eyebrows rose expectantly when he took a breath.

"Is that all, Your Majesty?"

Her smile disappeared.

"No, it is not," she declared. He was making this _very_ difficult when it did not have to be. Well, it wasn't the first time embarrassed male pride had gotten the better of a man. Firmly, Clarisse continued. "Joseph, we need to discuss this."

He dropped his gaze to meet hers, his expression betraying his hope. "You have changed your mind?"

"No," she said then hurried to continue when the corners of his mouth tightened and he looked away again, "but, I would like to explain my reasons-"

"That is not necessary."

"I think it is. Once you understa-"

"You made your reasons _very_ clear, Your Majesty, and I will honor your desire as promised, " Joseph broke in, letting his arms fall to his sides, his eyes meeting hers again. They were hard, despite the obvious pain. "But never doubt that I remain your loyal subject."

She lifted a hand to touch his arm but the expression on his face stopped her. Instead, she clasped her hands together in front of her. "Joseph, I want us to remain friends," Clarisse said bluntly so that there could be no misunderstanding between them.

He frowned, but said nothing.

"I truly wish our relationship to continue as before." She watched as his expression faded and he still remained silent. This was not going as planned at all, and her control of the situation was slipping away. Clarisse changed her tone. "_Please_, Joseph. I know you are disappointed, but-"

"Disappointed does not _begin_ to describe how I am feeling, Clarisse!" he answered tersely, unable to keep bitterness from his words. "And to continue as before? I think you understand why that would _not_ be sensible or advisable. One cannot simply ignore love!"

Clarisse drew back, stunned at his words as Joseph squared his shoulders and focused on the wall behind her, his expression once again blank.

He took a long, measured breath. "I beg Your Majesty's pardon for my forwardness and familiarity. It will not happen again, I assure you."

"I don't understand, Joseph- nothing has really changed between us!" she implored, trying to reassure him…and her own self. A weight settling on her chest, Clarisse blinked away tears. "Why can't we continue as before?"

The shadows in his eyes darkening, Joseph answered slowly, his voice just above a whisper. "It hurts too much…Your Majesty."

Placing a hand on a nearby chair, Clarisse closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. "I see."

Neither spoke for a long moment. She could think of nothing else to say.

"If you will excuse me," Joseph said quietly, giving her a bow.

Clarisse heard his footsteps fade, and with an aching heart, she sank weakly into the chair, a hand covering her eyes.

Several minutes passed before she looked up. Her gaze fell upon the papers on her desk awaiting her signature and she blinked, her vision clearing. The plans to allocate funds for school improvements needed her attention, as did the proposals to expand the children's clinic. Her country needed her; her people needed her.

As she had so often in the past, Clarisse Renaldi forced herself to stand erect, shoulders back and chin up. She had duties waiting and a nation expecting her to lead them with her whole mind and heart.

_This_ was her life- _this_ was her world. She had made her choice and it was the right one. It had to be.

Queen Clarisse picked up her phone and summoned Charlotte. There was work to be done.

* * *

_Dreams fulfilled….but first, there's a bit of rough weather for Clarisse and Joseph. Wouldn't be any fun if things always went smoothly, now would it?_

_As always, reviews keep me going and make me smile. I thank you foryour comments and encouragement! (-:_


	2. Chapter 2

_I do not own Princess Diaries. It belongs to Disney and Meg Cabot. This is a work of amateur fiction and I make no money from it. No infringement is intended. _

_This is a sequel to 2 other stories- Different Worlds and Worlds Apart, in that order. It would be helpful to read them first, but not absolutely necessary._

_

* * *

Chapter 2_

"Joseph? Is something wrong?" Maria asked. Across the room, her husband Michael and her brother Marcus looked up from their cutthroat game of chess, a bishop poised over the table.

They'd not heard from him in over a month, but with all the celebrations and excitement in Genovia, he must be extremely busy. She knew Joseph Coraza well; they had met when he was fourteen, her brother's roommate at boarding school, and she was twelve. He was like a brother to her and Marcus and was "Uncle Joseph" to their children, as well as godfather to her daughter Julia.

Two months ago he had stopped by overnight, and Maria had been delighted to see him smiling and happy. He'd hinted at retirement and possibly purchasing a home and property. She had gotten the distinct impression that his plans included Her Majesty, Queen Clarisse of Genovia.

It didn't surprise Maria in the least. Several years ago in Paris, at Julia's ballet debut, was when she first began to suspect Joseph cared for Clarisse. Joseph had looked upon the married queen with more than professional regard. Maria knew love when she saw it.

But, she had been puzzled as well. Queen Clarisse appeared almost jealous or even angry upon meeting Joseph, but Maria did not know what about. There was only her family in the group with him. It wasn't as if she had set Joseph up with a single friend and he had a beautiful woman on his arm. Only Julia had been at his side, clinging to her godfather nervously over her first encounter with so grand a personage as a queen.

Still, she was certain Joseph loved Clarisse. At first, she had worried about his heart being broken, but despite his never marrying anyone during those years, he seemed content. If he was not married, it was not for lack of Maria's trying. She'd exhausted the list of close, single women friends, and had had to resort to farther-flung acquaintances and friends of friends.

Why he had not married the widowed Clarisse- it had been seven years!- by now was something she longed to ask, but her roundabout questions on the subject had been met first with evasiveness then outright silence. _He wasn't getting any younger_- none of them were! Clarisse was stepping down from the throne soon- Joseph had better get on with proposing.

"I'm taking a job with a friend from London."

"You're retiring? How wonderful!" she nearly shouted, her hopes soaring. _Finally_! He and Clarisse would more than likely marry in the fall. She grinned knowingly. "Big plans?"

"Yes, we're forming a consulting firm." Maria heard Joseph pause before continuing. "I'll be leaving Genovia."

"Leaving Genovia?" How in the world had he convinced Clarisse to leave her country? Michael and Marcus abandoned their game and they crowded around her, loudly whispering questions for her to ask. She gave them a look that stopped them cold and they moved to sit on the couch…a safe distance away.

Joseph was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure where I want to settle. I thought perhaps near you and Marc."

Maria could not help but laugh at the thought of Queen Clarisse living in the French countryside with its commonplace amusements. "We'd love to have you here, of course, but perhaps you'd better ask-" She broke off, a distressing thought coming to mind. Please, no…

"My dear…are you leaving by yourself?" she asked gently.

"Yes." Joseph's answer held a world of grief.

Maria closed her eyes. He would not want sympathy and he would certainly abhor pity. "Well, as soon as you are free, you _must_ come stay with us at the manor house- stay as long as you want."

"I'd like that. And Maria?"

"Yes?"

"Please, do not try to fix me up with anyone," he said, wearily. Just as she was about to protest her innocence, he continued. "But, thank you for caring, my dear."

* * *

"Clarisse, darling!" Queen Helene called, her arms open wide as she rushed across the room. Jewelry jangled from both wrists, matching the bright flash of golden chains at her throat. Her hairstyle would have been considered out of date by some, but on Helene, it merely accentuated her classic beauty. "I cannot _believe_ Amelia is getting married in just _three_ days!"

"I know," Clarisse agreed, giving her friend a hug. After speaking with Joseph, she'd spent the remainder of the afternoon in a whirlwind of activity with her mind focused on the tasks at hand and putting aside what lay heavily on her heart.

King Stefan stepped forward and kissed Clarisse on the cheek, as behind him the guard that always wore sunglasses closed the door, leaving them alone. Stefan could not help but wonder about the fellow. "You are as lovely as ever, my dear," he said affectionately, moving aside as Gustav took Clarisse in his arms before he had even finished giving her his compliment.

"The grandmother of the bride is always the most beautiful woman at the wedding!" Gustav proclaimed, "and Clarisse, dear girl, you are living proof! You will outshine _all_ the young women at the reception tonight!"

"Hardly," Clarisse laughed, taking his arm. Leading them to her sitting area, she told the men to help themselves to the refreshments laid out on the buffet. She received few in her own private quarters, but the three were her dearest and closest friends. Gustav sank into a chair with an appreciative sigh of relief and nodded when Stefan lifted an empty glass. Helene and Clarisse declined.

Helene followed Clarisse to the couch and took a seat beside her, covering her hand with her own.

"I know everything is ready for the wedding and the festivities- but, are _you_ ready, dear?" Helene asked with a perceptive smile. She gave Clarisse's hand a squeeze then let it go; she'd been through this twice with her own children and several grandchildren. Nothing was more worrying than the last days before a wedding- there were simply too many things to go wrong. "Now, tell me everything and do not leave out a _single_ detail!"

There was a groan from near the bar and Gustav chuckled.

Stefan handed Gustav his drink and settled down into the chair next to him, resigned to listen to female chitchat about flowers and dresses and guest lists.

"Well, yes, I suppose everything is ready," Clarisse began hesitantly.

"Aren't the preparations finished?" Helene asked. "Is there a problem?"

"No, not per se," she continued, "it's just that Mia has been…hesitant over the marriage- the fact that it is an arranged one."

"Doesn't she approve of the young man?" Stefan asked, frowning. "I was under the impression she found him very agreeable."

"Yes. I made certain it was she who chose him," Clarisse assured him. "I thought it would help her accept the situation."

"And it hasn't?" Gustav said, rattling the ice in his empty glass. Stefan, who had barely tasted his own drink, took the hint and stood to fix another one, a smile of amusement on his face.

"You know of Lord Devereaux's claim to the throne," Clarisse said slowly, "and that he has been living here, of course?"

"You did mention it, yes." Helene waited, but Clarisse remained quiet, thinking, and Helene gently prompted her. "Have there been problems?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I love my granddaughter, but there have been times during the past month…"

"Heard about that incident at the review of the guards- an odd thing," Gustav mused, as he took the fresh drink from his friend with a grin of thanks that was barely visible behind his white beard. "Can't imagine a horse just bolting like that for no reason. What does Joseph have to say about it, Clarisse?"

"He's said little, only…" Flushing a deep pink, Clarisse paused, studying her hands. "I gather Joseph believes that someone deliberately frightened the horse," she finally answered. "I think he plans to pursue the issue after the wedding."

"Quite right not to do so now," Stefan quickly replied, nodding his approval. "Smart move."

"I'm sure Joseph will get to the bottom of it," Gustav agreed, one eye squinting as he watched Clarisse. "He's excellent at his job and is a man to have around under any circumstances."

"Yes, I'm sure he will." Needing to be out from under their study, Clarisse quickly rose and walked to the drink trolley. She poured herself a glass of water.

"I imagine with Mia taking the throne, changes will be in the works around the palace," Stefan remarked casually, exchanging glances with Gustav. He swirled his drink then took a sip. "Is he staying?"

"Is who staying?" Clarisse asked, moving slowly back to the couch.

"Joseph."

"Oh, well, of course. Mia will need a Head of Security," Clarisse replied, taking her seat again. She wished the subject would change. "So, I assume he will continue as-"

The glass halfway to her lips, Clarisse froze. Would he stay after all that had happened between them? Her breath caught- if Joseph left, she might never see him again! Her words were barely above a whisper. "Actually…I don't know."

Seeing her friend's distress, Helene stepped in. "I'm confident that whatever happens, Joseph will ensure Mia's safety."

The men quickly agreed and changed the subject. Something was very wrong.

* * *

Her eyes sweeping the room, Queen Clarisse entered the front hallway appearing much more serene than she felt. There were footmen and agents from security…but no Joseph. Her sigh was half relief, half that of disappointment. She had hoped he would be there to greet her and that the familiarity of the routine would help heal his hurt feelings. If he loved her still, then certainly he would not stay away as he said he would- he was her Head of Security!

"Good evening, Your Majesty," Charlotte greeted her warmly. "The dress is beautiful."

Clarisse murmured a reply, acutely aware of missing Joseph's appreciative gaze and comments. Perhaps he was outside.

Charlotte followed her across the foyer, "I have several last minute notes. Would you like to go over them and the schedule?"

"No, let's do that on the way," Clarisse replied, indicating she wished Charlotte to join her in the limo. He must be waiting by the car. "And, I'd like to glance over the guest list again, please."

"As you wish, ma'am. Their Majesties King Stefan and Queen Helene have gone with King Gustav, and Princess Amelia and the duke will be accompanying his parents shortly. I'll get the list."

As Charlotte left for her office, a tall man stepped forward when Clarisse reached the doors. "I am Anton, Your Majesty," he said, not wanting to presume the queen remembered him. "I am one of your guards for the evening, ma'am. When you are ready, Ma'am, please let me know."

"Very good, Anton. I'm ready now," she said, making her way toward the steps. Behind her limousine, there was a second, smaller sedan for use by additional security agents and extra staff. She paused at the bottom of the stairs to look. Joseph was not one of the men waiting beside it. The guard opened the limousine's door for her and she settled back in the thick, leather seat and tried to relax. _Where was he?_

Charlotte slid into the seat beside her, behind the driver. "Would you care to go over the items now, Ma'am?"

Clarisse nodded absently and half listened as Charlotte reminded her of social updates, such who was divorcing whom or other occurrences to avoid mentioning, and marriages or engagements since the last function that needed to be acknowledged. She moved to the toasts and events that would occur and in what order. Normally these last minute briefings gave her the opportunity to make any final changes, but tonight Clarisse's thoughts were not on the coming festivities. Unaware she did not have the queen's attention, Charlotte continued.

"Princess Mia and the Duke of Kenilworth have indicated they intend to remain at the reception to visit with guests and close friends, but by approximately ten-thirty you will have fulfilled all expected obligations. When ready to leave, notify Joseph," Charlotte recited, looking to the front seat. She frowned. Shades was driving, but Anton occupied Joseph's place on the passenger side. "Where's Joseph?"

"Jo- Mr. Coraza is not part of our contingent tonight, Miss Kutaway," Anton said, turning to face her. He was careful to use his very best manners with Charlotte since the queen was within earshot, but he was unable to resist adding with a chuckle, "He sent three of us in his place."

"I hope nothing is wrong," Charlotte said, confused. Save for rare occasions, Joseph had _always_ been at the queen's side for public appearances, and those he missed had been on the rare occassion he was too ill to attend to his duties or was in San Francisco with Mia.

"No, ma'am," Anton answered, still grinning. "He said it was time we made our way without him holding our hands." Suddenly remembering he was chatting unnecessarily in the presence of the queen, he clammed up and twisted to face forward. Shades gave him a warning look and Anton scrunched down a few inches in his seat. Serving as the queen's companion was not nearly as easy as Joseph made it seem.

_Joseph not attending?_ Charlotte glanced at the queen and found her staring out the window, her face expressionless. She put away the guest list and schedule and left Queen Clarisse to her thoughts.

* * *

Standing on one of the larger bridges that spanned the White River, Joseph sipped his black coffee and stared across the street at the brilliantly lit stone structure. It had once been a hotel, the first in Pyrus, but had recently undergone a large-scale renovation to accommodate meetings, receptions, and other special events.

Its plaza, with a large fountain in the middle shaped like a pear, was bordered by large, ornate lampposts decorated with short, wrought iron limbs and pear leaves. Alongside the sidewalk sat a row of limousines waiting for their royal or privileged passengers. Hans was chatting with one of King Gustav's agents while Lionel lounged lazily against the first car in line, the one belonging to Queen Clarisse. Joseph activated his mike.

"Get off the car!" he growled. Tripping over his feet twice, Lionel hastily put distance between him and the limo, jerkily looking about for the person who had caught him. Turning off his mike, Joseph shook his head in wonder. Tomorrow, he would set the boy to waxing every vehicle in the garage.

He had arrived earlier for a last minute check of the interior and exterior of the building, verifying exits along with the positioning of the reception hall staff and local constabulary. Always within fifteen seconds of the front doors, he had then followed the proceedings from the street, listening to Clarisse's arrival and entrance. It felt odd- _very odd_- not to be at her side.

_Get used to it._

Heat seeping through the paper cup, Joseph set it on the balustrade for a moment. Laughing voices of a departing couple floated across the plaza, and he looked away to the swiftly flowing dark water below him, feeling lost and alone.

Since the day Clarisse had walked into the palace anteroom over seven years ago, his life had taken on a new purpose and goal- to protect her at all costs. Only after Rupert's death had he allowed himself another- to win her heart. Now, he had to acknowledge what he must- he would never attain it.

She would settle for friendship; he could settle for nothing less than love.

In his ear, he heard Shades announce that Queen Clarisse was preparing to leave. Joseph picked up the coffee and walked across the worn stones. He wanted to see her- it would not hurt, he told himself. In two weeks, he would be gone and there would be no more evenings with Her Majesty.

Hans immediately started the car and Joseph took a position in the deep shadow of a column midway up the steps, to watch.

Preceding the queen from the lobby, Anton scanned the area, his head turning from side to side as he made his assessment. Mel at the wheel, the sedan pulled up a car length behind the limo and Lionel jumped in beside him. Anton, after a final check of the street, gave the go-ahead signal, and flanked by Shades and Pearson, Clarisse descended to the car with Charlotte following.

Clarisse was absolutely lovely tonight- had anyone told her that this evening? It had become one of his favorite moments when Clarisse approached the entrance doors, looking for his approval, then beamed in delight at his heartfelt compliments. But, no more. He downed the rest of his coffee, and leaned against the column.

No more.

Dropping his gaze to the empty cup in his hand, Joseph sighed softly, allowing himself a moment of self-pity. He was a soldier for thirty-four years, hardened and alone, never knowing what it was like to have a real home or family, and had waited patiently all his life for that _one_ special woman. And now, after he had allowed himself to dream and to hope…nothing was going to change- he would still be alone.

Only now, he knew what love felt like…and what he would be missing.

The car pulled away from the curb and Joseph stepped from the shadows to walk slowly back along the river, to his apartment.

He would learn to live with it, starting tonight. There was little choice.

* * *

Clarisse was tired but pleased. It had been a beautiful evening without any mishaps or crises. Mia and Andrew made a striking couple and together they had graciously greeted all two hundred and thirty-nine guests personally. Andrew had shaken hands with nearly every man, and his hand would most certainly be sore. Tomorrow, she would ask Gustav take him aside and give him a few pointers on how to survive these sorts of events.

Several times during the evening, she had caught herself turning around for Joseph only to find Shades or Anton stepping close to her side. Both had served well, but…it just did not feel _right_. She was surprised at how often she was used to speaking with him during the evening, and how much she missed his dry and amusing responses.

_Where was he?_

She had not thought he would actually leave her. In his anger, was he willing to disregard his duty? Could he not bear to be in her presence at all? The thought hurt. Surely not! Joseph _must_ have had a pressing issue to deal with that prevented him from being at the reception. That had to be it- an urgent concern elsewhere at the last minute. It had to be.

Goodbyes were said and she nodded to Charlotte. Shades moved to her left side, another agent- Pearson, he had said- on the right. Ahead of them, Anton strode forward, clearing a path. Three guards? At least they had not all crowded around her at once. Oddly, she felt less safe than simply having Joseph at her side.

Outside, the air was cool but not enough to warrant more than her light wrap. Lights played on the splashing water of the commemorative Pear Harvest Fountain and beyond the plaza, people moved about on the street, many watching the comings and goings of the reception from behind the barricade.

They were her people- the ones she dedicated her whole life to serving. Did they know the sacrifices she made for them? Did they know what she had lost- what she could not have?

They watched, thinking their queen to be the most fortunate woman alive. The truth was that at the moment, Clarisse had never felt lonelier in her life.

Anton opened the door for her and as Clarisse was about to enter her limousine, movement in the shadows of the building caught her eye. She paused, looking up. It was a man, leaning against one of the large posts, looking down at something in his hand. She would forever recognize the angle of the shoulders, the way the man carried himself even in such a casual position.

Joseph.

There was no emergency- he _could_ have been in there with her, but he had chosen not to. He truly did not want to be with her.

Clarisse got in the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"The reception went wonderfully, dear. Andrew is a prince among men in every sense of the word," Clarisse said, patting the seat beside her with a smile. Her granddaughter seemed a bit pensive and Clarisse sincerely hoped it was not due to more second thoughts about marriage. "You made an excellent choice, Mia."

"I hope all my decisions are as good," Mia said. She slumped back against the couch and tossed her arms up dejectedly. "I don't know, Grandma. There's _so_ many things for me mess up on. What if I make a mistake and…and hire the wrong secretary or maid!"

"The country will hardly come to a standstill, my dear," Clarisse replied with a laugh, her worry easing. She recalled being a very young twenty-one year old bride, nervous about the duties she was about to assume. She arranged the bone china teacups on the tray. The pattern was one of her favorites- delicate pink roses. "And that reminds me- we do need to discuss your staffing choices. Most will remain after you assume the throne, but there will be other positions you must fill. The Office of Royal Personnel will handle much of the responsibility, so don't worry, Mia."

"You know what I mean. How do I choose those who will be close to me?" Mia hugged a pillow and shuddered. "And I'll never be alone- I'll have secretaries, aides, and footmen hanging around every minute of the day, not to mention security agents!"

"Oh, now, it's not that bad!" Clarisse answered, hiding a smile. Little privacy for a queen was simply how it was for those in their position. She started to say more, but did not. While away at school, her granddaughter had had minimal security, so the sudden unease when faced with a full security contingent was understandable. Mia would get used to it.

"How do you bear having no privacy- you're hardly _ever_ by yourself!" Mia's voice dropped to a whisper. "There are _two_ men outside the door right now and another down the hall! They are always around!"

Clarisse shrugged a shoulder and poured tea for herself and Mia. Most family and guests had retired to their rooms to rest before dressing for the evening's formal ball, so she was taking advantage of the time alone with Mia. Soon, their lives would change forever. She hoped there would still be opportunities for their comfortable heart-to-heart talks. She would make certain there were. "That's true, to a point. Your security staff will always be nearby. If they are well trained, however, they will not be in your way."

She handed Mia a cup and saucer, and watched her granddaughter relax at her words of assurance. "A good staff is your best support, Mia."

"So, if Joseph ever retires, how do I choose a Head of Security? What do I look for?" Mia asked, taking the offered tea and folding her legs under her.

Cradling her own cup in her hands, Clarisse settled back against the cushions. For now, she had put the difficult situation with Joseph from her mind. There were far too many pressing concerns she had to deal with, and she could not change the state of affairs between them, nor could he.

"Well, as with any position, the person must first be qualified," Clarisse began slowly. "Just as importantly, it must be someone you entrust your life to without question and someone who will never compromise their work." She took a sip of tea and added, "This is a very important point. Your security must _never_ give in to you if it inadvisable, no matter how much you wish them to."

"You mean like when you and I went for that ride in San Francisco and Joseph got angry and doubled the number of guards watching us and didn't let you out of his sight other than to come find me in the rain…even though you fussed for days?"

"Well, that is a rather extreme example, but yes." Clarisse cleared her throat and hurried to move the discussion away from the embarrassing memory. "As I was saying, if you feel comfortable around your security, the more awkward situations will not be so unbearable."

Clarisse set her cup down. "I remember one terrible party three years ago in Monaco. There were hundreds of people gawking at the attendees and throngs of paparazzi. We were trying to leave, but the hotel's guards couldn't handle the crowd and I was _terrified_ of being crushed! Then suddenly, Joseph was at my side, leading me out of the room through the back way. We ended up behind the hotel, at a rather busy delivery entrance."

Mia smiled at the faraway look in her grandmother's eyes, but didn't dare interrupt.

"Joseph must have thought about the incident in Brussels with your grandfather. Oh, he was so annoyed with the hotel's security chief! I heard he later went back and-" Clarisse abruptly stopped, a smile playing about her lips. "Well, he was _very_ angry."

"At any rate, we didn't dare go to the front to wait for the limousine. So, we followed a path to the beach, pulled off our shoes, and walked the kilometer back to our hotel- I in my ball gown!" Leaning against a brocade cushion, Clarisse laughed, and Mia smiled at the blush that came to her grandmother's cheeks. "It was _lovely_- the moonlight, the crash of surf, and Joseph beside me… We lingered, sitting on wooden beach chairs, just talking and enjoying the sand between our toes."

Her thoughts suddenly back in the present, Clarisse sat up straight. "My point is, Mia, that you must trust your Head of Security explicitly. If you are satisfied with his qualifications, the trust will be there from the beginning."

"Was that how it was with you and Joe, Grandma?" Mia asked, wondering at her grandmother's musings. Last night, at the reception, her grandmother had seemed distracted, and Joseph had been nowhere in sight. "Did you know right off that he was the one?"

Remembering the moment she first met Joseph, Clarisse looked away, her cheeks pinkening once again. Married to Rupert for over thirty years, she had not once looked at another man…until that day.

"Yes," she answered, trying to keep her voice normal. "He came to us more than qualified and very highly recommended. Your grandfather later joked that _we_ were the ones being interviewed, not Joseph." She rose and moved restlessly to the window, absently fingering the Genovian lace panels. "He was correct. Joseph could have worked anywhere, but he chose here."

"You and Joe seem to be very close…friends," Mia began hesitantly. "But, I get the feeling that you aren't happy like before... Grandma, is there something wrong?"

Crossing her arms, Clarisse stared silently out the window.

Mia waited, worrying. Her grandmother had been so supportive…so caring of her despite everything that had happened since that long ago afternoon in San Francisco. "I'm sorry, Grandma. That was too personal a question," she said softly. Her grandmother turned to face her.

"Mia, you are already aware that our lives as royals require decisions that transcend our own desires," she began carefully. "Some decisions can be difficult, but are necessary." Clarisse moved to her granddaughter's side, and laid her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "You must learn not only to make the decisions, but also to live with them. That is often the hardest part."

She kissed the top of Mia's head. "It's time to get dressed, my dear."

* * *

Quickly moving aside as two elegantly dressed couples brushed past, ignoring him, Joseph returned his watchful attention to the crowd milling about the ballroom. At the moment, the musicians were taking their seats after giving the attendees a chance to talk and, for those who had taken several turns on the dance floor, a respite. From all indications, the ball honoring Princess Mia and her betrothed was a success and without any crises or disasters. Count Mabrey and his nephew were not in attendance.

Near the center of the room, Clarisse offered her hand to a garishly uniformed man wearing a sash and a red, star-shaped medallion. Someone titled and wealthy with an honorary military rank, no doubt. Joseph's jaw tightened as the man held the queen's hand for longer than necessary. Had he been at her side, not impatiently roaming the edges of the ballroom, he would have made his presence known to discourage such familiarity.

Again, he wished the night was over.

Making no effort to withdraw her hand, Clarisse smiled and spoke to the others near her, who laughed at her comment. Apparently, she did not mind if her hand were held.

Joseph turned his attention from the sight, scanning the floor for unfamiliar faces. Since Shades had handled the evening's arrangements and had assured him all changes had been checked out, Joseph had not seen the final guest list. Most were the same guests invited to the previous night's reception, and although people were still arriving at the palace entrance, he was satisfied with the security preparations; Shades had done a fine job.

The musicians had taken their places and the music began once more. He saw the queen nod, allowing her admirer to lead her to the middle of dance floor, as other couple gathering about them. The man took her in his arms. Joseph turned and walked toward an area near the French doors.

There was no reason for him to follow the queen through the sweeping movements of the waltz; both Anton and Shades were closer to her and it was their task to keep her always in view. His primary assignment was to observe the guests for anyone out of place or behaving in a way that caused suspicion.

In his ear, Hans announced the princess and her fiancé had joined several other couples in the portrait hall, and after Shade's acknowledgement, Joseph instructed Hans to take a position in the hall with them. He smiled when the agent replied that he was already there. His men were well trained and thorough and Joseph had no qualms about leaving the princess, or the queen, in their hands. He could leave Genovia with a clear conscience.

Pearson entered the room, returning from his break, and, after catching Joseph's eye, moved to a position along the opposite wall. Joseph allowed himself to relax for a moment.

He and Samuel Chesterson had spoken earlier that day and made plans to meet in London in three weeks to sign papers formalizing their partnership. Three weeks would give him time to finish up at the palace and take care of personal affairs, including Stone Manor.

For months he had planned the work needed for Stone Manor, the estate he had found just over an hour's drive from town and had hoped to make his and Clarisse's home. It would have been perfect for them- far enough from Pyrus to encourage Clarisse to relax yet close enough if she were needed. There were enough gardens to renovate and rooms to refurbish to keep Clarisse busy for a year or more. It mattered little now. On Monday, he would notify the realtor he was dropping his option to purchase.

Three weeks would also allow him to spend a few days in France with his friends Marc and Maria. Maria knew him too well; he was certain she understood why he was leaving Genovia. But, that also meant she would make sure he had quiet and privacy.

Surprisingly, it was not privacy or quiet Joseph wanted. He wanted to be busy and not be burdened with time to think about what he had lost. When he hit London, it would be running. Extremely pleased, Chesterson had announced he already had two companies and a Middle Eastern emir interested in their services; none had so much as blinked an eye when quoted the estimated fees. For a two-day consultation, Joseph would earn more than a month's pay at the Genovian palace.

Despite this, he was not working because he needed the income. Compared to the finely dressed persons of rank and status in the room, he was not affluent or even well off, however he could afford to live very comfortably any place he chose and travel as he wished. Over the years he'd had few expenses, and had saved and invested his money with a more than an adequate return. No, he was working to stay active and to pass the time; he could think of nothing worse than sitting alone in his apartment, longing for what might have been.

As the music slowed, Joseph found himself turning back to where Clarisse was holding court. A tall, distinguished gentleman managed to get the better of two others vying for her attention, and bowed low before her. Clarisse- no, _Queen_ Clarisse- gave him her hand and smiled.

She was not Clarisse to him now. She could never be.

Making his way toward the open doors, Joseph informed Shades he was going outside. At the moment, a few minutes of quiet and privacy did not seem such a bad idea after all, and the cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the crowded room. Except for the agent assigned to a discreet position by the wrought iron gate, the garden was empty. He would remain outside for a while, he decided. Neither his men nor queen needed him.

"Take a break and get something to eat," Joseph said, waving Mel to leave. The younger man grinned and hurried off in hopes of finding a spare tray of finger sandwiches in the kitchen.

Thousands of tiny white lights twinkled about the garden, entwined about slender tree trunks and limbs. Unhurried, with his hands in his pockets, he descended the curved steps leading from the balcony to the terrace below. The illuminated fountain cast dancing shadows on the paving stones and nearby statues, its water a clear, frothy white. He stopped, staring at the mesmerizing play of liquid and light.

He would miss Genovia.

He loved the mix of cultures and languages, the blending of old and new. Until he arrived in Genovia, seasonal changes simply came and went with no more notice than was needed to stay warm and to stay safe on the roads. Here, autumn brought frost to leafless trees that were soon crowned with glittering, icy diamonds, while the greening countryside meant a profusion of flowers and clear, warm days. Somehow, the sky even seemed bluer. It couldn't possibly be as blue anywhere else.

It gave him great satisfaction to know the people of Genovia were safer and better off than they were almost eight years ago. The fight to bring changes had been a hard one, but he had wanted it for the people…for his people. There was no doubt in his mind- he was Genovian and always would be.

Nevertheless, life in Genovia would soon be but a memory. What would the future bring? He was determined to make a new life, one that gave him a reason to get up each morning and look forward to the next day and not to the past.

Above the splash of water, he heard a woman's footsteps but he did not look to see who it was. They were not the queen's; he knew hers well. It was someone out for fresh air just as himself.

"Do you mind a little company?" a familiar voice said.

Joseph spun quickly to see a longtime friend holding two flutes of champagne.

"My dear Micha!" Joseph could hardly believe it was she. He quickly crossed to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Surprised?" She lifted a delicate brow and offered him a glass. "Here, darling. What's a party without champagne?"

"Thank you," he said, taking the delicate flute by its stem and turning his mike off with his right hand. "I didn't know you were coming. Perhaps I'm slipping in my duties."

"Never _that_ from the ever-so-efficient Colonel Coraza," she said, lifting her glass to him.

"The Colonel is long gone… I'm simply Joseph." He smiled at her teasing.

"My love, you have never been _simply_ anything!"

Joseph laughed.

"But, as to why I'm here, Bob was on the board of trustees of one company Andrew Jacoby's father owns. I am still good friends with the board members, so when the CEO's wife became ill at the last minute, they asked me to come and present their heartfelt congratulations to the happy couple." She looked away to the foaming water. "I leave in the morning, but it's good to get out. It was hard to at first."

"I'm sorry about Bob," Joseph answered sincerely, taking her hand in his. Micha stared at the fountain.

"Thank you. And thank you for coming to the memorial service. I truly loved him, you know."

"I know," he replied quietly, taking her hand. "How is Robert?"

"Very well- he's getting married next spring," she said, her face lighting up with pleasure at the mention of her son.

"How wonderful!" Joseph gave her an innocent look. "That means you will be a grandmother before long."

She scowled at him.

"I'm far too young to be a _grandmother_!" Unable to keep a straight face, Micha laughed. "Even so, I told him I want a half dozen and I don't want to wait forever for them."

"My dear, you will be a lovely, _young_ grandmother." He kissed her hand and then let it go. "I'm happy for you, Micha. I truly am."

Silently, she looked about the garden and sipped from her glass. Joseph continued to hold his, but did not taste it. He never drank alcohol while on duty and rarely when off; he considered himself on call twenty-four hours a day.

"The garden is beautiful," she finally sighed, "It's like an enchanted fairyland where dreams come true." Micha looked at him. "Have your dreams come true, dearest Joseph?"

He watched the water splash over the carved marble tiers, the drops becoming lost in the churning foam below. Finally, he spoke. "Dreams are only illusions we create from desire. They do not exist."

Micha frowned at the hardness in his voice. They had been lovers in the past and friends for nearly thirty years, which entitled her to worry about him. Upon entering the ballroom earlier, she had noticed him from across the floor and watched as he followed Queen Clarisse with his eyes before disappearing outside. His expression was one of disappointment and sadness. Her friend had lost his heart.

"Still, it is one's dreams that shape the future," she replied.

"At times…but not always. Often, dreams have nothing to do with it," he answered, looking toward the gazebo. He suddenly turned to her. "So, my lovely countess, what lies in _your_ future?"

Micha lifted a shoulder. "Doing what I've always, darling- staying very, _very_ busy."

"In the business, again?" he asked.

"Yes, actually. Rollo retired several years ago, but he became bored with his villa and chateau," she explained with mock seriousness. "He said he _never_ wants to live so far from civilization again, but I think there simply weren't enough people around to flatter him. So, he's moved back to Paris and taken an interest in following several young designers. He wants to start a house featuring their work and I've agreed to help."

"You are as beautiful as ever, my dear, and will turn every head."

"Thank you, but I won't be modeling. Most of my work will be seeking out new talent and perhaps PR work, on occasion." She smiled. "And your plans?"

It was Joseph's turn to shrug. "To stay _very_ busy," he repeated. "A friend and I are forming a consulting firm."

"Exclusive clients?"

"Have to be to afford our rates." They both laughed and Joseph set his glass on the smooth edge of the fountain. The scent of roses wrapped around them as a delicate breeze stirred the air. Joseph suddenly recalled a summer evening when he and the queen had strolled along the paths as he listened to Queen Clarisse confide her hopes for Mia. He would miss those moments with her the most.

"I leave the palace in two weeks for France, then London," he added, looking back toward the open ballroom door.

Her gaze on her friend, Micha quipped, "But, tonight you are here, guarding the queen."

"No," he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting as he casually gestured to the flowers and profusion of roses. "As you can see, I am guarding the gardens."

"They are in danger?" she asked, eyes wide in innocence.

"They are Her Majesty's gardens, therefore I watch over them…as I watch over Her Majesty," he answered in mock seriousness before looking away, his expression again solemn as his eyes darkened.

Micha was sure. Joseph Coraza would not have Queen Clarisse by his side.

_But why not_?

Was his love not returned, or did the queen return his feelings but personal or social circumstances kept her from accepting him? Micha did not know Queen Clarisse except by repute. Still, she found it difficult to believe someone known for her dedication to forward progress would allow mere social pressure to influence her decisions. Whatever the reason, it was certainly the queen's loss.

In the ballroom, a slow melody began. Micha set her glass by his then faced him, her hands behind her.

"A dance for old time's sake?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Of course, my dear. I believe the garden will be quite safe for a few minutes," he quickly replied.

They were alone. In two weeks, would it matter if he danced in a vacant garden? Joseph took Micha in his arms, comforted by having someone who cared for him near. They moved languidly, gracefully across the flagstones.

Micha sighed. She had always loved dancing with him. With her head resting lightly on his shoulder, she felt the slow movements of his hips and wondered if Clarisse Renaldi had ever been embraced in Joseph Coraza's arms. If not, she pitied Genovia's sovereign.

Too soon, the music faded and they stopped, their bodies touching. Micha stood on her tiptoes, kissing him gently.

"One day, I hope your dreams find you, my darling," she whispered, touching his cheek.

He pressed his lips to hers then lifted his head and smiled that lonely smile she had seen too many times. "If only they could."

* * *

Clarisse was determined to enjoy herself at the ball, but right now, she needed a moment to herself.

Trying not to appear in a hurry as another song began, Queen Clarisse thanked Lord Randall for the dance and left before he could suggest another turn about the floor. Several men tried to catch her eye with a silent offer to dance, but she declined each with a smile. Replying politely to those who spoke as she passed, Clarisse was careful not to stop and chat, but walked purposely to an area away from the crowd, unable to stop glancing about for Joseph.

With great relief she had noticed him earlier across the room in a shadowed area by the foyer, then later at the edge of the ballroom near the doors. Now, however, she could not find him. At least he was in attendance tonight, even if not by her side.

The anger she had felt upon seeing him last night after the reception had faded before her limousine had reached the palace gates. In all honesty, her security was more than adequate and he had been present at the reception- just outside, not at her side. Wanting him at her side was pure selfishness and had nothing to do with how his men protected her.

Although she had always valued his help and service, it was only until he was not there that she realized what an irreplaceable part of her life Joseph had become. He'd been her protector, confidant, advisor, and friend. There were no matters of state she would not discuss with him and nothing made her safer than having him at her side.

She recalled evenings with Joseph waiting nearby, looking out for her safety and comfort, bringing her water, stepping in when a guest was too close, or providing her an excuse to retire somewhere quiet when she was tired. He was always there with a comment to make her smile and a reassuring hand on her back.

Clarisse nodded absently to the Castillian ambassador and his wife, and kept walking.

But, there was more to it than that.

As unsettling as it was to admit it, Joseph, more than any other man, made her aware she was a woman. His sharp intake of breath and whispered 'you are beautiful' upon her arrival at entrance doors made her feel as if she were an exquisite jewel to be treasured. As queen, she heard many compliments and accepted them for what they were. His words, however, thrilled her and pleased her because she knew they were from the heart. To never hear them again…

Beyond the crush of guests, lights in the garden glittered, beckoning to her. She always thought best in her garden. Waving aside Shades' company, she walked out onto the porch as he took a position in the doorway, ensuring her privacy.

Was what Joseph said true? Could she look beyond the royal responsibilities that defined Clarisse Renaldi? There must be a way- her friends Helene and Stefan combined love with duty, and Gustav had been devoted to his wife. Both were enormously effective as sovereigns. Even so, she reminded herself, their circumstances were different from hers- very different, indeed.

Over tea with Helene in the gazebo, she had been tempted to discuss the situation between herself and Joseph, but then thought better of it. Really, what would it accomplish? Nothing could change between them. Eventually, the pain in her heart would lessen as she lost herself in her responsibilities and work.

She had a country and granddaughter in need of her. Until the day she died, there would be duties required of her. Yes, her heart would gradually heal. She only hoped Joseph's would.

Inhaling the perfume of her roses, Clarisse moved to the edge of the balcony and gazed out over the neat paths of clipped shrubs. Below her, silhouetted by the fountain, a couple danced, their bodies close. Love….

_San Francisco and a music-filled reception hall... "You've been wearing black too long, my queen."_

She closed her eyes briefly, allowing the moment to live in her heart and mind. What would she do without Joseph? So much had already happened between her and Joseph since his proposal, it felt as if it had been weeks since that evening, not days. She hoped with all her heart he would not bear her ill.

With a sad smile, Clarisse watched how the couple's bodies moved together perfectly as the man gracefully guided his slender partner across the damp stones and turned, into the light.

Clarisse froze.

The couple swayed to a stop as the music ended, and the exquisitely beautiful woman kissed Joseph, touching his cheek tenderly. Joseph bent his head and pressed his lips to hers gently, letting the kiss linger for a moment.

Feeling decidedly aged and less than a precious jewel, Clarisse turned away abruptly and hurried toward the crowded ballroom, no longer worried about his heart.

* * *

_AN: While I have much of the next few chapters written, they still need work, so it might be a little while before I can post another chapter. Thanks for your comments and reviews! _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Making the final revision to the queen's schedule, Charlotte stifled yet another yawn. It was late, the last Betrothal Ball guests having left over an hour ago, but the schedule had to be prepared for the incoming staff and it was better to do it now than in the morning. Too, it would allow her an extra half-hour's sleep since she was staying at the palace tonight and did not have to drive home to her apartment in Pyrus.

In the past few weeks, she'd spent little time at home, what with the preparations for the wedding and coronation, not to mention the difficulties created by Count Mabrey, his nephew, and Mia. And the end was not in sight. The coronation and transition period would bring its own frenzied rush. First, however, they had to get through tomorrow.

Charlotte had mixed feelings about the upcoming wedding. When she first began working for Queen Clarisse she had been awed by not only the queen, but by the queen's lifestyle. The royal jet whisking them away for social affairs in glittering venues, the international acquaintances and events that were commonplace topics of conversation, along with the influence achieved by simply invoking the queen's name…it had seemed like she was living a fairy tale.

It did not take long, however, before Charlotte came to see what most did not: Queen Clarisse worked very long hours and tirelessly for others. Because she was a public figure, the queen had little privacy and had to be on guard every moment of the day lest someone find fault in an action or word and use it against the throne. Personal pleasure and fulfillment were a low priority, and while the queen was constantly courted for her favors, great care had to be given in choosing whom to trust. It was a difficult lifestyle.

Fortunately, Princess Mia seemed to be adjusting well; she had come a long way from the gawky, self-conscious schoolgirl who'd run through the embassy halls and livened up stuffy formal dinners. But, was it right expecting her to marry Andrew Jacoby?

_Was it worth giving up true love for a throne?_

That's what Queen Clarisse was doing. There was absolutely no doubt in Charlotte's mind that the queen loved Joseph Coraza. Although she would never criticize Her Majesty publicly or privately, she thought the queen's decision a foolish one.

The woman was sixty years old! She'd given decades of her life to others and now the queen was apparently giving up love due to dusty, antiquated traditions. Were a poll taken today, Charlotte would bet a paycheck the results would startle Queen Clarisse. People enjoyed the pomp and pageantry, true, but the average Genovian citizen would not care a pear about who their sovereign married so long as the man was of good character.

As for snobbish Continental society…well, when it came to love, others' opinions should not matter. One's heart should be private. At least, that's the way it should be.

But, Charlotte knew it wasn't so simple. The upper echelons of society had strict ideas about what was acceptable and what was not. She had heard staff from other titled houses or governments repeat their superiors' derisive remarks about this person or that. Hateful gossip, that's what it was, and it would never change or go away. Hurtful was just the way some people were. If not spoken to the couple's face, the comments would be whispered behind their backs.

Charlotte sighed in dismay. As it looked, the queen and Joseph would never get together, whatever the reason.

And what of her and Shades? For over a year, they had been seeing each other when time and duties permitted. In all honesty, she'd expected Shades to say something about marriage before now. Although with his was taking over as Head of Security, his free time would be severely limited and they would be seeing even less of each other.

Charlotte sighed again. Any exciting romance in her life would have to come from the romance novels, it seemed. At least Sapphirina Plezzure had a new book out- _A Swelling of Royal Desire._ It was sitting at her apartment, waiting for her attention, and she planned to stay in her pajamas all day Sunday and do nothing but read. She wouldn't be seeing Shades- he would be accompanying the princess and duke on their honeymoon.

The changes made, she checked them once more before clicking the button to print out copies for the morning briefing. Even though Her Majesty had planned the day before Mia's wedding to be a quiet one with family and close friends, there were still a few duties to attend to. The queen looked rather tired when she left the ball a full two hours before Mia, so it was for the best that she had decided to cut back.

On her way to the palace offices, Charlotte could not help but laugh when she saw Shades at the front desk with Lionel, the two of them bent over the chessboard. The boy drove him crazy. She wondered how long it would be before Shades cracked and sent Lionel to check the back gate or basement plumbing. It would be even worse if Lionel beat him at chess.

While she waited for the printer, she looked over the ball's guest list, searching for the name of the woman she had seen Joseph escort to the front of the palace as guests were leaving. She found it- Countess DuMer, a last minute addition representing the London pharmaceutical firm Andrew's family owned.

From their easy smiles and the way the woman had held Joseph's arm, Charlotte surmised they had known each other very well prior to tonight. Before the woman slipped into the backseat of her car, he'd kissed her. Was this an old flame being rekindled? Had Joseph gone to meet her?

Charlotte's question was answered when Joseph entered her office, his tie undone and his shirt collar unbuttoned.

"I was on my way home and saw the lights. Is everything OK?" he asked.

"Yes, just working on Her Majesty's schedule," she replied retrieving the sheets from the printer and offering him one. Curiosity and her caring very much about the queen got the better of her and Charlotte continued slowly. "Joseph, do you know the Countess DuMer?"

"Yes, her brother and I served in the army together," he replied absently, taking the new schedule.

"Oh, I see," she replied, trying to sound casual as she watched Joseph's finger skim across the page and pause on a two-hour block. Dare she try to dig deeper? "Then you've known her for a long time?"

"For over thirty years." Joseph pointed to the blank spaces. "The queen has changed her plans?"

"Her Majesty cancelled the luncheon engagement. She's feeling tired and-"

Joseph's head came up. "Does she require a doctor?"

"No, she's fine, only tired," Charlotte assured him. The worry in his voice and eyes made her feel better- he still cared about the queen. "She will let Princess Mia and Andrew Jacoby join the Prime Minister while she has a quiet lunch here with friends." He continued to appear concerned, but said nothing more.

Charlotte thought hard about how to phrase her next question…and if she should even ask it. She took a breath and plunged in. "Joseph, I've noticed you are not around the palace as much as before."

"I am here daily and can be reached by phone at any hour," he replied, making notes on his copy of the schedule.

Charlotte pressed on nervously. "This has been a trying time for the queen-" Joseph's hand stilled for a moment before continuing his annotations- "and she needs the full support of her staff."

"Are you anxious for Her Majesty's safety?" He was staring at her. Did he know what she was hinting at? Charlotte felt her face warm and she looked down, moving papers needlessly from one folder into another, mixing them up thoroughly.

"No, not at all. I just-"

"Good. As to your other concern, I am always at Her Majesty's service," Joseph continued, adding stiffly, "should she require it."

When he had disappeared around the corner, Charlotte let her breath out in a rush and began straightening out the mess she'd made with the lists of presents and seating charts. Meddling, she thought to herself, was _not_ her forte.

* * *

"It would be meddling where we have no business poking about, my dear." In the mirror, Stefan tightened the knot of his conservative burgundy-striped tie and gave his wife a look that he hoped would allow no argument. As usual, he was wrong.

"Oh, really, Stefan! Clarisse is my oldest and dearest friend! Why we've known each other since-"

"Still, that doesn't-"

"-we were in school and have confided in each other since we were barely old enough to wear perfume!" Robe in hand, Helene paused at the bathroom door and pressed home her advantage. "Clarisse is _alone_."

"Yes, but-"

"Who else can she talk to? And you know as well as I do that she needs someone to at least just _listen_."

"Yes, my dear." The Ravenstein's king sighed in defeat as he pulled on a lightweight wool jacket. He and Gustav were meeting several others for breakfast at the Golden Pear Hotel in Pyrus. Whenever heads of state were gathered, informal talks were unavoidable.

At one point in his marriage, he could hold his own in an argument longer, but now… Perhaps he was simply getting sentimental or soft-hearted and this failing wasn't a sign of weakness at all. It had to be. That or his wife knew him inside out.

He glanced at his watch then flipped on the TV. He had fifteen minutes before he had to leave, and wanted to check the news. The Duke of Thornfield had once again defied Cerneland's lower court, and would most likely do the same in Ravenstein. One day, the duke was going to run out of loopholes to hide behind, Stefan thought with a pleased smile, and they would catch him, bringing an end to the whole debauched lineage. It was only a matter of time.

The station out of Pyrus was ending its morning show and Stefan adjusted his shirt cuffs and paid little attention to the bubbly female announcer until the scene cutaway to a homemade video. Mouth open, he gaped in disbelief, then flung open the bathroom door and yelled loud enough to be heard over the shower and halfway down the hall.

_"Good heavens, Helene! You won't believe what that child has done now!"_

* * *

Clarisse pressed her eyes closed again in hopes the image of Mia and Nicholas sleepily wrapped in each other's arms under a tree would be gone when she opened them. It wasn't.

Mia said she had been played - whatever _that_ was. Suddenly reeling at what came to mind, Clarisse fervently prayed it did not mean sex. _Oh, please, no!_

She took a deep breath. The fact was that nothing could undo what had been done. Mia was a woman now and had to take responsibility for her actions…no matter how foolish they might be.

"The big question is- do we still have a wedding?" she asked quietly, surprised at how calm she sounded. Mia's head went down again.

"Andrew." Mia sniffed loudly and ran a sleeve across her eyes.

"Yes, Andrew," Clarisse replied firmly.

Mia snuffled into a tissue. "I'll go find him…and apologize."

"I think that would be wise, under the circumstances," Clarisse said, coming to her feet. "The two of you have a great deal to discuss and settle."

* * *

Had a jewel from the royal crown hit the floor in the security center, it would have echoed in the absolute silence that fell after Joseph turned off the television.

"Why did no one see the princess leave the palace?" Joseph asked quietly as he turned to face the agents who were on duty the previous evening. Several swallowed hard, but no one answered. "I assume everyone was at their posts?"

Shades shifted in his seat then took a deep breath. "Yes, sir. I had the desk, I'm to blame," he answered.

Joseph nodded. "You and your staff saw no one?"

"No, sir."

Across the table, Lionel perked up. "We try to keep people out- not keep them in!" He laughed and Shades kicked him under the table- hard.

"I want every security tape studied, second by second, until you find out how Lord Devereaux entered the grounds past our security posts, and with how he and the princess and left the palace unseen. Then, you will prepare a plan to prevent such an occurrence in the future. I want it on my desk in a week's time," One by one, Joseph met the gaze of every man around the table. "This will _not_ happen again. Understood?"

There was a chorus of 'yes, sir's' with the voice of Lionel amidst them.

"Got it- no runaway bride- _Ouch!_" Lionel reached under the table and rubbed one leg then the other as the three agents seated at the table glared at him. As Joseph dismissed them, he kneaded his calf where Anton had caught him; the man had a _big_ foot.

"No sense of humor," Lionel muttered, careful not to let anyone hear him as he limped after them.

* * *

"Joseph, please stay for a moment."

Without looking at him, Clarisse put aside the small organizer and folded her hands on the table as Charlotte and the Heads of Staff filed quietly out of the room. It had been impossible to ignore the news of Mia's nocturnal roaming, but the meeting was the final one before the wedding and she had tried to keep the discussion on the upcoming event.

Thank heaven, there was going to be a wedding and Andrew had not packed up and left! No media or public appearances had been scheduled during the day, so Mia was kept out of the spotlight, lessening the flames of gossip. And tomorrow, news of the wedding and the pageantry surrounding it would fill every newspaper and broadcast, burying the unpleasant incident. Or, at least, Clarisse hoped it would.

She had spent nearly every moment of her day talking with the Lord Bishop, Prime Minister Motaz, three senior members of Parliament, Mia, Mia's mother, Andrew's parents, and finally Andrew. In the end, everyone except Andrew politely chose to pretend the video must have been mistaken.

He had insisted he and Mia lunch with the Prime Minister as scheduled as well as be seen about the palace grounds together. Privately, Andrew had been forthright about the fact that the marriage was not based on love, but had expressed hope of deep affection growing between him and Mia. There had been tears in Clarisse's eyes when she kissed him as he left her sitting room. Truly, she could not think of a better man at Mia's side than the Duke of Kenilworth.

In a chair opposite her, Joseph sat, waiting. She knew there was no reason to bring up anything concerning the situation between them since it would serve no purpose. He was, of course, free to pursue anyone he wished, including the woman she'd seen in his arms last night. She had made her decision and would live with it; it was for the best.

Clarisse came to the point. "Now, about the incident with Mia."

Joseph faced her directly, his words resolute. "Your Majesty, I assume full responsibility for my staff's failure. While it is too late in this instance, I assure you steps are being taken to prevent such an occurrence in the future."

A married Mia sneaking away on a future night to meet someone? Clarisse paled at the very thought. Surely her granddaughter would not do something _that_ foolish? Such a scandal would rock the very foundations of the monarchy.

"Let's hope it is _not_ a problem in the future," she replied fervently. Forcing the image from her mind, she continued. "Mia has explained all to me, and I want you to be aware of what occurred."

Joseph listened quietly as she recounted Mia climbing out her window and down to meet Nicholas. His jaw tightened when it came to the young couple's taking horses unnoticed from the stables for a midnight ride. When she finished, he surprised her by placing a large, manila envelope on the table.

"The video tape," he explained. "You may take it, or, if you prefer, I will place it in my office safe."

"You keep it," she answered unsteadily. "It's _not_ something I desire to see again."

"As you wish." Joseph placed the envelope in his briefcase and then looked up, his expression full of concern. "I assure you, the matter is being dealt with, Your Majesty, and I do not expect it to go to court."

_Court!_ She closed her eyes, imagining the commotion that would cause. The press would have a field day! If Joseph could prevent the event being dragged through courts and the media, it would ease the situation immensely. Clarisse looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, Joseph."

Nodding, he took her comment as a dismissal and stood, briefcase in hand.

Her thoughts still on the events during the night, Clarisse rose, too. She would be glad when Mia was safely married and away from Genovia- and Nicholas- on her honeymoon. They were _extremely_ fortunate nothing more had occurred in the incident. And Nicholas- what if Nicholas or Count Mabrey were to talk to the press?

_"I just cannot believe Mia did that!"_ Clarisse burst out.

Pacing several steps before turning to face him, she continued, her voice rising. "Running away during the night for a rendezvous with a man who is _not_ her fiancé! How could she even _think_ of doing such a thing?"

Joseph considered his words before answering quietly, "Perhaps she was not thinking with her head, Your Majesty."

"You are correct on _that_!" Clarisse agreed vehemently. She wrapped her arms across her chest. "If she were to do something as irresponsible when queen…"

The question that she had struggled with all day flared to life once more. Was Mia still fit to be queen? Privately, she was unsure and it was tearing at her heart; she had not dared voice her fear to anyone. Instead, she had put forth a positive front that was supportive of her granddaughter and future grandson-in-law in every way, and it taken every bit of her diplomatic skills and persuasion to pull off. As for herself, she remained confused.

There was one person, however, she knew she could trust absolutely.

"Joseph, what do you think?" she implored, leaning across the desk, her arms supporting her. He had always been honest with her. She braced herself for his answer. "Tell me truthfully. Do you believe Mia is still suitable to wear the crown?"

He answered firmly and without hesitation. "Yes."

Clarisse relaxed, clasping her hands in front of her. "You do?"

"I believe Princess Mia will make a fine queen," he replied slowly. "She chooses with her heart, and that will serve her well."

Clarisse did not answer.

He shifted the briefcase to his other hand. "If there is nothing else, Your Majesty?"

Five minutes after he left, she was still pondering his answer.

* * *

"_Ooooh, what a day!_" Priscilla exclaimed, falling back on her small bed. "The princess sneaking out of the palace to see another man, and it being just before her wedding!"

Olivia, fluffed her pillows and threw back the spread over her twin bed opposite Priscilla's. While it would be nice to have a private room, being the queen's private maids was worth sharing sleeping quarters. And besides, Priscilla was her best friend. "Well, if you ask me, I think the princess is sweet on Lord Devereaux."

Her roommate quickly rolled over to look at her. "But, she's going to marry the Duke!"

"Maybe so, but I've seen the glances she gives that Lord Nicholas- and what he gives to her right back." Olivia tucked her feet under her and leaned back against the wall, satisfied at the effect of her words. Priscilla's eyes were wide.

"No!"

"Yes!"

Priscilla sat straight up. "You know, this is just like what's in the new romance I'm reading. It's ever so good!" she giggled. Flinging open the bedside table drawer, she dug around in it for a moment and then pulled out a paperback with a dark-haired man, clad in nothing but a pair of tight fitting breeches and black boots, embracing a buxom woman who was wearing only in crown and a barely big enough lace nightgown.

"Is that the sequel to _A Conflagration of Hearts_?"

Priscilla nodded. "The Spanish Count Mr. Senor Jose has to rescue his lady-love from Prussian kidnappers who know she is secretly a royal heir to the throne of France and was hidden away as a housekeeper under Jose's guard to keep her evil cousin from killing her so he can take the throne, which is not really theirs to take since Jose is actually-"

_"Don't tell me everything!"_ Olivia cried, clapping her hands over her ears.

"Oh, that's just the first chapter. There's lots more!" Priscilla assured her. She placed a hand over her heart and fluttered her fingers. "Senor Jose is ever so dreamy!"

"Let me see that!" Olivia said, holding out her hand. She inspected the cover carefully, admiring the artist's talents. "Look at that! Those pants look like they're going to bust anytime in just the right place!"

"Here, let me read you a good part," Priscilla eagerly offered, taking the book from Olivia. She thumbed through a few pages, pausing every now and then to read a few lines then flip to another section. "Ok, this is a good part- listen to this!"

_"Jose ran the tip of his forefinger across first one side of his mustache and then the other side, the muscles of his massive chest flexing like pumping pistons with each swipe. He looked up at the woman who had silently stolen into his small quarters. Light from the lamp highlighted the natural blonde streaks in her silken tresses and the lamp's smoke swirled upward as if forming a halo about her beautifully shaped head._

_'So, my lady, you've come to see how the royal guardsmen keep their swords polished?' Jose asked, taking an oily rag in hand and applying it to the long, thick tool resting across his powerful thighs. Sweat shone on his bronzed skin, collecting in the hollows of his furred pectorals then trickled the length of his abdomen to puddle in his manly navel._

_'Tis just for you that I keep this in readiness,' he added, giving her a look that would melt the rust off armor. 'Would you care to hold it…or would you prefer I hold you?'_

_With a sigh, Lady Lydia fell into his lap, barely missing the gleaming sword, and flung her arms about his thick, sinewy neck, squeezing him tight. 'Oh, Jose! I have missed you so! Has your heart pined for me, as well?'_

_Distracted by the clanging of his prized weapon clattering to the floor, he did not answer her directly, but frowned, wondering if the razor sharp edged he spent the entire morning grinding had been nicked._

_'Oh, Jose! Do you not love me any more?' she cried, mistaking his look of annoyance at his rapier's damage for annoyance at her words._

_'What?' he replied heatedly-_

"When do you get to the real juicy part?" Olivia exclaimed, wiggling on her bed in anticipation.

"It's coming! She had to get in his arms first!" Priscilla answered. "Now, where was I? Here it is."

_'What?' he replied heatedly, the flames of his passion flaring to full combustion.. 'Never doubt my love, my amor!'_

_When he moved his hand from under her knees, the hand that had been keeping her from sliding off his damp, oily breeches, Lydia had to cling even tighter to his sweaty, hard frame. His now free hand slipped to her trim, flat waist, his hand easily spanning it with room to spare._

_His eyes darkened with the light of desire, and his hot lips scorched hers then made a track of fiery, burning kisses across her creamy, white breast-_

"That's more like it!" yelled Olivia. Priscilla grinned.

_'-as if he were a rabid foxhound in pursuit of his elusive quarry. The flimsy lace of her maid's uniform at her curvy bosom was no match for his strong ivory-colored teeth and with a determined growl he claimed his delicate pink oval prize and feasted-' _

"Oooooh!" the two girls squealed in unison. The door suddenly flung open and the solid, short frame of the palace Head of Housekeeping filled the lower part of the doorway.

"_Here, now!_ What's all this _racket_? You girls should be _sleeping_," Miss Parker said sternly, hands on her ample hips. She spied the book in Priscilla's hand and inclined her white-capped head toward it. "_Whatever_ are you _up_ to?"

"Miss Parker, we were just reading the new book what's just come out," Priscilla explained while Olivia tried to sink into her pillows and hide.

"And _that_ book might that be?"

"It's _A Swelling of Royal Desire_, ma'am, and it's awfully good," Olivia spoke up.

"I _see_," Miss Parker said, suddenly pleasant and agreeable. "_Delightful_, is it?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am! I've only read a few chapters so far, but I think it's just as good or better than _A Conflagration of Hearts_," Priscilla answered solemnly.

Miss Parker smiled in satisfaction. "Well, now, don't you girls sit up _too_ late- _we've_ got a _wedding_ tomorrow, you know!"

Humming a peppy Barry Manilow ditty, Miss Parker left, her steps as light as a young girl's as she went.

* * *

At the touch of her finger, the lamp's light snapped off and she was left in near darkness. Weary with relief, Clarisse sighed and pulled the comforter up to her chin, finally able to let her eyes close.

It had been a horrible day and one she was glad to see end.

She had been reassured to some extent by Joseph's words, but only tea in the Gazebo with Helene had provided a quiet respite from the dreadfulness. Helene had let her talk for nearly an hour, interrupting only to agree sympathetically and offer a few words of support.

Looking back, Clarisse was not sure what all she'd confided to her friend, but her heart was now lighter for it and she was able to look forward. Tomorrow was Mia's wedding day and the crown _would_ be passed to her granddaughter as planned. Clarisse was determined to carry on.

_Come what may, life went on._

Life _did_ go on, and she would meet whatever each day brought as she had for the past forty years- with all her strength and ability. Mia and Andrew would be happy, and so would she; she was determined to be. Her duties would keep her busy and soon there would be grandchildren to love and enjoy.

As her eyes closed, something Helene said came to mind and was her last thought before sleep overtook her.

_"Love is like a rose in a garden. Whether or not we choose to cherish its splendor is our decision. But like anything, if neglected too long, its value fades." _

* * *

Turning on only small lamp by the sofa, Joseph crossed his living room tossed his jacket over a nearby chair. Tired, he wanted only to sleep…but he knew it would not come for some time. He checked the nearly-empty refrigerator. With his being home so little now, there was no need for the weekly housekeeper to bother with stocking it. A drink would help him sleep, but he dared not have one- he half expected to be called in before daylight for another palace crisis. _What more could happen? _Apparently, anything. He grabbed a bottle of water, instead.

He had no doubt the royal family could weather the video and whatever gossip it generated. That did not worry him, but what did concern him was Clarisse. That she was still having doubts about Mia's suitability to rule Genovia was troubling. Other than his earlier words in support of the princess, there was little more he could say to her; he no longer felt he could approach the queen on personal matters. At one time, he would not have hesitated to openly speak his thoughts, but now…

Sinking into a patio chair on his small balcony, Joseph looked out over the street below him. It hurt to think he would be leaving. He had accepted the fact, but it was painful, nevertheless.

Plans were already made. He had an appointment in four day's time with the Stone Manor Estate agent, and the moving company would be packing his belongings the following weekend for shipment to a storage facility in France the next week. This was the only home he'd ever had and he wanted to take the few antiques and furnishings he had collected with him. It was not much, but it was his. He did not want to start over again; he was far too old.

From across the river, the mellow thrum of a bell striking two a.m. drifted to him along with the scent of wisteria blossoms and he yawned, letting drowsiness settle over him. He had to be at the palace by seven at the very latest. It would have been wiser to spend the night there as he had so often in the past, but he needed to put distance between him and his work. More specifically, Clarisse.

Joseph rose and shut the door to the balcony behind him. It was time to move on.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: I own no rights to Princess Diaries and do not mean to step on Meg Cabot's or Disney's toes. Quotes from the movie, liberally used for the wedding portion of the story, are from the movie. I make no money from this- just smiles from your reviews. _

_Wedding bells are ringing..._

Chapter 5

Leaning on the palace balcony, Joseph watched through dark shades as Queen Clarisse strolled through her garden with her beloved dog at her side. Normally his expression betrayed little of his emotions of the moment, however this morning, alone and unseen, he was openly frowning.

His partnership with Chesterson was settled and arrangements for leaving made, but there was still the decision of where to live. Understandably, Chesterson preferred to stay in England as he had a home and family there, but for Joseph it did not matter. Nearly sixty-one years old, he had no ties to keep him in Genovia…or anywhere else.

His young sisters by his father, Morley Addington, the Duke of Thornfield, were unaware of his existence- the whole family was. The duke had never acknowledged his son by a young housemaid and never would; Addington made that quite clear the few times they'd inadvertently met. Marcus and Maria were the closest to family he had, and he loved their children. They were all he had left.

In the past years, he had lost touch with various women acquaintances, but he was not interested in any one else; Micha was a very dear friend, but they would never be more than that. To settle somewhere and drown himself in work away from Europe was what he needed, not thoughts of what he had lost and might never have. To that end, he had agreed to taken on several accounts in Asia, the Middle East, and America. He would be _very_ busy in the coming months.

During his life, Joseph had learned not to dream, not to let his hopes soar, but he had done just that in imagining himself and Clarisse spending the rest of their lives together. He'd dreamed of Mia's children visiting them during holidays at Stone Manor - Maria and Marcus's family as well. But, dreams, as he'd told Micha, were simply a fantasy of what could not be. He knew it only too well.

Joseph took a deep breath. Perhaps the idea of living in France, near Marc and Maria, was his best option. Despite the nearness to Genovia, remaining on the continent would be advantageous, too. It would cut down on business travel to clients in Europe, yet it was just a few hours to London should he and Chesterson need to meet. He decided he would ask Marcus on Mondayto make inquiries regarding available apartments or houses on the outskirts of Paris.

Queen Clarisse called to her dog and laughed as Maurice bounded after a butterfly.

A few days earlier, he'd thought of going to her and trying to persuade her to change her answer. But, after considering, he had not. Clarisse had made up her mind.

Joseph searched his heart. The pain was not as sharp as before- a good sign- and with every passing month, he knew it would lesson…but never completely go away. Before leaving to check on security preparations, he took one last glance at his queen, letting his heart acknowledge the love he still had for her. It was the only look back he would allow himself.

* * *

"Today's the day Mia gets married, Maurice," Clarisse said, rubbing her dog's head affectionately. Used to arising early, it was her habit to spend a few minutes on the grounds each morning with Maurice. It gave her a few precious moments alone and a chance to gather her thoughts before starting her official duties. Today, however, she felt oddly adrift, as if something were missing.

_Stuff and nonsense_, she told herself. Seeing Mia wed to a fine man who would be at her side, supportive and caring, was to be one of the happiest days of her life. The day would be a glorious one, and not just for the royal family. Bells would ring from churches across the country, flags would wave on every doorstep, and crowds would throng the streets, eager to catch a view of their beautiful princess and handsome duke. It was truly a day for all Genovians.

Maurice shot away, chasing a yellow butterfly, and Clarisse called to him as he came very close to her prized cuttings. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Joseph on the porch, looking out over the garden, clad in black as was his habit. She did not acknowledge that she saw him. He watched for a moment, and then walked on.

At her side, Maurice rubbed against her hand, eager for her to acknowledge his obedience. Absently, she buried her fingers in the dog's black fur, scratching behind his ears.

In her heart of hearts, Clarisse could not deny her feelings. She loved Joseph Coraza; she always had and always would. Still, nothing had changed and the words could never be spoken aloud.

"Come, Maurice. Time to go," she said, walking slowly toward the balcony where Joseph had stood.

* * *

Clarisse sipped her tea, her eyes fixed on the screen. Her breakfast finished, she wanted to check the early news before attending her daily staff meeting, not in a small part to see if Mia's adventures were still being talked about in the media. She took another sip, forcing herself not to hold her breath.

_"Tongues are wagging over the Duke of Thornfield's verbal sparring with his sister at a recent family gathering. Onlookers at the London wedding of Kent Howe, the duke's nephew and son of philanthropists Everett and Margaret Addington Howe, the Duke and Duchess of Creshwell, reported Morley Addington and the duchess got into what was nearly a shouting match as he was entering his limousine to leave."_

_"One could say they nearly 'duked' it out!" _Elsie Kentworthy exclaimed, placing a hand against her cheek in mock alarm.

Looking away from the screen, Charlotte gave an encouraging smile. "So far, so good, Your Majesty."

"Poor Margaret having to put up with that brother of hers- and at Kent's wedding," Clarisse sighed. "Before the year is out, Charlotte, I intend to see Morley Addington reduced to _nothing_- that man _must_ be stopped!"

"Yes, ma'am," Charlotte agreed.

_"And we all know that today's the big day!"_ Elsie crowed, waving a blue garter belt. _"Princess Mia and Andrew Jacoby will tie the regal knot! Will there be more royal surprises in store?"_ Elsie continued, eyebrows rising in speculation.

"Oh, let's hope not," the queen murmured fervently.

_"Crowds have already begun gathering outside the Pyrus Cathedral in anticipation of the year's biggest event, and you can see it all here! First, there will be the royal procession in the official-"_

"Charlotte, is my schedule clear tomorrow?" Clarisse asked, pouring another cup. It seemed everyone's attention would be on the wedding, thankfully.

"Nearly, ma'am. Just church services then a luncheon with the Jacoby's and Princess Mia's parents before they leave. Later, there is dinner with Their Majesties. King Stefan and King Gustav will be meeting with several ambassadors during the afternoon, but Queen Helene has no plans."

"Good. I'd like the dinner to be served in the small dining room- informal, please." Clarisse set her cup down. "And have tea set up on the terrace- the one nearest the fountain- for Queen Helene and me tomorrow. No, make it for four. Stefan and Gustav might have returned by then and want to join us."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll check on the arrangements." Charlotte made a note in her folder, stifling a groan. There went her lazy day at home reading.

_"And speaking of romance and surprises," _Elsie said, pausing dramatically to pick up two paperback books. The camera zoomed in on the covers to show a scantily dressed couple on both, entangled in each other's arms. _"A Conflagration of Hearts is still on the Continental and American top ten bestsellers lists, and the newest breathtaking novel from Sapphirina Plezzure, the sensuous romance, A Swelling of Royal Desire, has shot to number one on both within a week of release!" _

Clarisse stared open-mouthed, unable to look away from the convincingly rendered brawny, tanned male clad in nothing but breeches that were straining mightily at the seams. With his dark hair, goatee, and mustache, he looked vaguely familiar. "Heavens!"

_"Well, it seems a local gal turns out to be the author of these best-selling tales of love and adventure featuring Senor Jose and Lady Lydia- known for their sizzling love scenes and fast-paced, witty dialogs!" _Elsie was about to burst in excitement.

"Oh, my word, Charlotte! Tell me this has nothing to do with Mia, _please_!" Clarisse cried, sitting back suddenly, a hand pressed to her chest.

"Not that I know of, Your Majesty," the younger woman replied, trying to keep doubt from her voice. Hopefully, the bedroom, horseback, and anywhere-that-was-convenient antics of Jose and Lydia were beyond Mia's firsthand knowledge.

_"It's Genovia's very own Miss Linda Parker, Head of Housekeeping for the Genovian royal family!"_ A glamour photo of Miss Parker, smothered in frills and feather boas, filled the screen.

Stunned, neither woman could speak for a long moment. Finally, Charlotte found her tongue. "Miss Parker wrote those books? _Linda_ wrote those stories about… _Lydia_?"

"_Jose…_" Suddenly, Clarisse knew why the male on the cover looked so familiar. "The things she wrote about, Charlotte! And with _him_!"

Quite forgetting she was addressing The Most High and Exalted Sovereign of The Independent Kingdom of Genovia, Charlotte sputtered, "_You _know about of those books?"

Recalling the wild and rowdy sexual escapades described in thorough detail that she had surreptitiously read in Charlotte's copy, Clarisse busied herself with the tea. "Well, I _do_ try to keep up with modern literature," she replied with all the dignity she could muster. Abruptly, she set her cup down. "But, what I want to know, Charlotte, is with _whom_ Miss Parker acquired her first hand knowledge to write such things!"

_"Remember-stay right here with yours truly for Genovia's first imperial wedding in over forty years,"_ Elsie chirped, lifting her trademark frying pan. _"And keep your sunny side up!"_

* * *

Five minutes after the line of limousines bearing the Mia's parents, Andrew Jacoby and his family, and another carrying King Stefan, Queen Helene, along with King Gustav, had left, Shades waited silently for Her Majesty to make her way to the limousine and used the time to again run through the day's schedule and make sure nothing was forgotten. Although he was appointed "in charge," Joseph Coraza had the final say on everything and knew exactly what was going on at any minute. Even so, Shades was eager to make a good impression and not disappoint Joseph; moreover, he did not want a disaster to occur on his watch. He was still stinging from the nighttime encounter of the princess and Lord Nicholas.

A royal wedding, with all its logistical details and scores of guests, was a huge event. But, he had gone over every aspect of security with Joseph and if his boss was satisfied, then so was he. Barring unforeseen events, the day should run smoothly and like clockwork, he assured himself for the fourth time.

At the doorway, Charlotte caught his eye and nodded; the queen was ready to leave. From years of habit, Shades scanned the area automatically and then signaled the agent at the top of the steps, who, in turn, stepped aside to allow the queen to pass. As Mel closed Her Majesty's door, Charlotte came around to Shade's side of the car.

"Everything's on schedule," she said nervously. "Let's hope nothing goes wrong."

He grunted, placing a hand over his mike. "We _are_ talking about Princess Mia, you know."

Charlotte gave him a disapproving look, but could not help but whisper over her shoulder as she turned toward the sedan behind the limo, "At least we know Her Majesty _won't_ be pulling any surprises today."

Shades grunted again, as he slid behind the wheel and put the limousine in gear. Nothing during the past month had gone as planned- why should it now?

* * *

_Well, this is it_, Clarisse thought, as the limousine pulled away from the portico. Mia would be married in little over an hour.

Suddenly, Clarisse felt very alone. She stretched out a hand and ran it over the plush leather seat. Somehow, the car seemed emptier. Up front, her two security agents murmured quietly between themselves.

Joseph was not with her- not that she had expected him to be at her side anymore. There were still times, however, when she expected to see him in her office doorway, asking if he might come in. Often, his visits had been to speak with her about a palace issue or to simply talk about her day; other times, it had been to respectfully insist she take a break and go for a walk in her garden. She missed that.

So many things had changed, and there was still more changes to come. A year from now, where would she be?

She had agreed to stay in order to help Mia, but at some point Mia would have to govern alone. Too, Mia and Andrew would want to make the palace theirs. Clarisse understood the need only too well. When she and Rupert had married, she felt as if she were living in another woman's home despite the size of the palace and Queen Matilda's warm welcome.

Not too close to Pyrus as the other royal residences were, the Summer Castle in the northern part of the country, would suit as her new home, she had decided. A new airfield was nearly completed and the commute by jet would be less than forty-five minutes from her doorstep to the palace gates. It was not one of the larger castles, but it was near Genovia's second largest city and would afford a number cultural activities, as well as opportunities for her to serve the local citizenry when she was not out of the country.

Located in a sheltered valley, the weather was not as harsh as higher locations and would allow her to have a small garden. While the grounds were not large, there was room for her to keep several horses, although not the breeding farm she had hoped for. Still, she could ride frequently, and she looked forward to that very much. Work had already begun on changes she wished to make.

After Mia's coronation, perhaps she should spend a few days there. It would give Mia a chance to have the palace and limelight to herself. Yes, she would do just that, Clarisse decided. Furthermore, she would have a longer visit in the fall to plan out more extensive changes for the following spring and summer.

She would invite Helene and Stefan to visit, and perhaps the Duke and Duchess of Creshwell. Despite her duties, she intended to find time to renew old friendships. Too, it would keep her from being alone.

Until recently, she had not thought of that. Even though Rupert had been gone for many years, Clarisse had not felt alone. She had been surrounded by staff and visitors, and had kept so busy all hours of the day with her duties, travels, and functions to attend, that she rarely had time to feel truly lonely.

And, there had been Joseph. It was only that morning, during her daily briefing, she had heard of Joseph's informal notice of retirement and his intention to leave Genovia. What would he do? Where would he live?

Would she ever see him again? Realistically, given her position, it was doubtful they would cross paths.

Clarisse suddenly felt a profound emptiness inside; she had truly lost Joseph, and shortly, he would not be present in her life, at all.

They entered Pyrus, and through the lightly tinted window she could see crowds lining the streets. Her people. Seeing it was their queen, the throng cheered and waved. Forcing a smile to her lips, Queen Clarisse waved back in return.

No matter what happened, she would always have her people.

* * *

Clarisse looked strained and tired, Gustav thought as he saw her take her seat at the front. Was it the wedding? He didn't think so. Clarisse was used to being busy, and she was pleased with Mia's selection of Andrew Jacoby. Yesterday's ghastly incident between Mia and Lord Nicholas aside, everything appeared to be going well and the wedding would go through as planned. Gustav crossed his arms over his beribboned chest. No, it was more likely the matter of Clarisse's heart belonging to Joseph Coraza.

Gustav had caught her glance at Coraza earlier, when they were preparing to leave for the cathedral. Joseph had not taken his usual place at her side, but had positioned himself just beyond the cars and portico, allowing his men to carry out the security measures. From what he'd overhead and surmised, apparently Coraza had given over primary responsibility of guarding Clarisse to the agent called Shades. And now, Coraza was going to leave Genovia.

There was no other conclusion for him to make- Clarisse had refused Coraza and had not wavered in her decision. Gustav frowned. Regretfully, there was nothing he could do. It was a mistake on her part and would be difficult to rectify in the future- if it even could be set right.

The music changed to herald the start of the service, and a parade of lovely young women in pink made their way down the aisle, followed by the maid of honor looking none too thrilled, but smiling bravely.

_Why had Clarisse made such a decision_? Was it because of Coraza's position? His lack of title or wealth? It troubled Gustav to think Clarisse would yield to convention when he'd been certain she would accept Joseph Coraza when the day came. Yet, for no reason he could determine, she had not.

His anger welled up and his fingers gripped his gloves in a fist as he glanced around at the aristocratic and powerful men seated nearby. With or without a title, Coraza was as worthy as _any_ of them! Under his breath, he damned Morely Addington to hell and back twice.

"What was that?" Stefan whispered, leaning close.

"Nothing…just nothing," Gustav grunted.

Stefan flicked a glance toward Clarisse sitting with Andrew Jacoby's parents. "Did you hear?"

"For pity's sake, man! Don't tell me the princess has gotten into _more_ trouble!" Gustav growled, his voice low. He stared at his friend in dismay. What did Clarisse have to do- lock Mia in a tower?

"No. Well, not that I've heard, at any rate. It's that Coraza's leaving- going into private work out of London. Learned it from one of my men. Rather sudden decision, apparently." Stefan shook his head and continued softly. "I had hoped Clarisse would overlook custom."

"What do you mean?" Gustav asked. If Stefan thought it had to do with rank and propriety, then he himself must be following the right line of reasoning. The music started again, but no bride was yet at the door.

"I can only surmise she's allowing society's traditions to keep her from Coraza," Stefan answered slowly. He shrugged. "Can't imagine why else. They obviously care for each other."

"You mean because she is titled royalty and-"

Stefan nodded, peering at the doorway behind them, searching for signs of Mia. Surely the bride was going to participate in the ceremony. Then again…

"It's not _fair_!" Gustav hissed angrily, his suspicions confirmed. Joseph Coraza was the legal and rightful heir to a title that held enormous influence, monetary value, and prestige. Until the former Duchess got her claws into the old Duke and started the House of Thornfield on its rapid and steady decline, the title was more powerful than his own royal line or that of most small European monarchies.

Thornfield was one of the few remaining titles that exceeded political and social boundaries. The duke held property in a dozen countries and ties with many businesses established centuries ago as well as in recent years. Despite the duke and his mother's best efforts to ruin the title, the House of Thornfield still carried a great deal of weight throughout the continent, as evidenced by the Addington's ability to pull strings in high places to evade court action. Except for those required to deal with the duke on financial matters, few people of influence or breeding had anything at all to do with Addington. The name now carried with it a reputation for dishonesty and dishonor.

Hardly a birthright to desire, but it _was_ Coraza's, nonetheless. But, announcing that Duke of Thornfield's heir was in fact Joseph Coraza was not Gustav's choice to make. If Coraza wished Clarisse to know, Coraza would have to be the one to inform her.

Gustav bit his lip, forcing himself to calm down.

"It's not right!" he repeated.

"No, it's not," Stefan agreed. He drew a deep breath. "Well, _whatever_ her reason for rejecting him, I fear Clarisse will one day come to regret her decision."

The two men looked at her, saw the tired lines about her mouth, the smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Gustav shook his head. "She already does."

At the back of the church, the bride stepped into the aisle and started forward.

* * *

_"The heart does things for reasons that reason cannot understand."_

_"You're preaching to the choir."_

He would miss Princess Mia immensely. Apparently the marriage was going to take place despite what had happened, but Joseph took no comfort in the knowledge. He'd seen Mia and Nicholas together and anyone could see there was an attraction between them. It was not his place to interfere; nevertheless, he beleived she should be told.

He rapped softly on the door.

"Then you should know Nicholas did not set you up at the lake."

"Really?" There was hope in her voice and Joseph could not help but smile. "How did you-"

"The maids know everything," he repeated sagely.

Actually, it had nothing at all to do with the maids. After forcing his way into the station manager's office and closing the door behind him, allowing no hope of escape for the terrified man, it took all of fifty-five seconds to persuade the manager to give up the tape and another thirty to name the photographer. Having the tape, however, did little to help the princess; the footage had been shown far and wide repeatedly, and he'd heard from Chesterson that news of the incident had already reached London.

He would handle the matter of the photographer and Mabrey later, as he promised the queen. For now, just as with the episode involving the horse, bringing the matter back into the spotlight would do more harm than good.

As for Lord Deveraux, he was torn. In his gut, he felt Nicholas was being duped by Mabrey; however the young man was old enough to be responsible for his actions and be expected to think through the consequences. Even if it were his uncle who had instigated most incidents, Nicholas had a great deal to answer for.

Behind the door's narrow opening, Mia was quiet.

He had chosen to stand watch over her to ensure her privacy, letting Shades assume a position at the front of the church near the queen. But, he had seen Queen Clarisse leave the palace and again as she made her way to her seat at the front of the chapel. The flowers, the candles…it could have been this way for the two of them.

Suddenly, Charlotte made the signal; it was time. He gave Mia a smile of reassurance and took the liberty of giving her a kiss on the cheek before she left the anteroom.

"May you be happy, my princess," he whispered.

* * *

As Mia walked slowly down the aisle, Clarisse's expression changed to one of joy and pride. Mia was a beautiful young woman who was _truly_ fit to be queen. Joseph had been correct.

At the altar, Andrew waited, resplendent in his uniform. He would make a wonderful husband for Mia and a concerned leader for Genovia. Still, Clarisse could not help but feel uneasy. Even though had seemed the right choice at the time, and Andrew would make a fine husband, Clarisse now wondered if encouraging Mia in an arranged marriage was for the best. She sighed, thinking of Joseph.

_Did dedication to duty require denying one's heart?_ Should anyone, queen or commoner, be forced to forgo love?

She had given up love for the crown. Could she ask her own granddaughter to do the same?

A murmur ran through the crowd. Halfway down the aisle, Mia had stopped, pale and looking decidedly ill. Suddenly, Mia fled from the chapel and Clarisse quickly followed.

* * *

"I made my choice- duty to country over love. It's what I've always done, it seems," Clarisse said matter of factly. She continued quietly, no longer hiding what she felt in her heart. "And now…well, I've lost the only man I have ever really loved."

Mia looked away, toward the cathedral, and Clarisse's gaze followed. At the bottom of the steps Joseph waited, his attention vigilantly fixed on the excited crowd just beyond the barriers. Clarisse watched him for a moment then, her mind made up, she squared her shoulders and turned to her granddaughter resolutely.

"Mia, I want _you_ to make your choices as a woman. Don't make the same mistakes I did- make your _own_ mistakes!" She smiled lovingly. "Whatever choices you make, let them come from your heart."

It might be too late for her, but it was not too late for her beloved Amelia.

* * *

Concerned, Joseph followed Her Majesty and the princess back into the chapel. When Mia waved away her bouquet as she started down the aisle, he closed his eyes briefly. His fears were confirmed, yet there was also a new hope for her happiness.

It had been _wrong_ to force her into marrying.

Andrew was now sitting with his parents and Mia had stepped up to the pulpit. To Joseph's right, across the aisle, Clarisse and Charlotte smiled as they listened intently to Mia's impassioned plea.

Joseph, however, was preoccupied with another matter. At the front of the church, Viscount Mabrey was becoming more and more agitated, and when the man stood, ranting about Mia and the crown, Joseph alerted his agents. Anton and Hans, both stationed at the front of the church nearest Mia, nodded slightly, ready for his signal. Pearson and Mel, on the opposite side, eased their way nearer to the front. Just one more step by Mabrey toward the princess was all it would take.

"I refuse to accept the crown!" Lord Devereaux's voice rang out loudly. Necks craned as everyone turned to see, but Joseph kept his gaze on Mabrey, watching as the man stumbled out of his pew and down the aisle, past the delighted Von Trokens, and then toward Clarisse. He moved quickly, placing himself between her and the irate viscount. Mabrey scraped a bow as he hurried by the queen then roared after his nephew. Joseph quickly ordered the doors closed and locked.

At the front of the church, Motaz coaxed Mia through a motion to abolish the rule requiring all queens be married. Only too well, Joseph knew how stubbornly the leadership of the country clung to old ways; he'd fought it for years, enduring the wrath of those too set in their ways to see sense, and now Mia was attempting to do away with centuries of tradition that dealt with Genovia's most treasured custom- the monarchy. She called for a second.

No one spoke. Joseph's jaw tightened.

He'd be _damned_ if he was going to allow Mia to lose the crown!

He knew enough dirt about the members of Parliament to pressure a response. Signaling Shades, Joseph cast a glance toward the side of the church where the men were seated. He was going to do a little staring down of his own. He turned to leave…but there was a second…followed by a chorus of 'ayes' from the men.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Up front, Lionel crossed to Mia's side and Joseph scowled. What was that idiot boy done now? Lionel had only to do stand there- how could he possibly mess up? Joseph and Shades exchanged looks. There just might be a fight between them over who got hold of Lionel first.

"Your Majesty, the princess would like a word," Charlotte said, holding her earpiece out to Clarisse. The crowd murmured in bewilderment, but none dared leave for fear of missing what might happen next. So far, this had bested every royal event in the past fifty years and had provided enough fodder for gossip to last years.

Ignoring the confusion around him and focusing on his job of protecting the queen and princess instead, Joseph kept his eyes on the crowd, preparing to react at anything, no matter how unusual at this point. It had been too much to expect the wedding to go smoothly. He should have known it wouldn't.

Movement near the side doors, where Mabrey was apparently trying to re-enter the church, caught his eye, and he paid little notice to the conversation between the princess and queen. In his ear, Joseph heard Mia promise her grandmother a fairy tale wedding.

_What now?_

Was Mia going to track down Nicholas and drag him to the altar?

Joseph shook his head and turned his gaze back to the front of the church. _Nothing_ would surprise him anymore. Undoubtedly, this was the strangest wedding he had ever attended.

"Just because I didn't get my fairytale wedding doesn't mean you shouldn't," Mia's voice said over the tiny wire. She could see Mia smiling at her.

The queen laughed nervously and let go of the coiled earpiece. Was her granddaughter actually suggesting she…? Clarisse caught her breath, almost gasping in surprise. "Oh! Well…I…"

_What should she do?_

Her duty…her position….her heart.

Nervous and uncertain, Clarisse turned toward Joseph. Ramrod straight, he was looking out over the crowd, expression somber, his eyes searching the crowd carefully.

_What would he say?_

What should _she_ say? Clarisse bit her lip and gathered her courage. _You love him! Speak your heart!_

Clarisse could not help but smile- she _did_ love him!

"Joseph?" she began uncertainly, smoothing the front of her coat.

He turned, and giving her an aloof, impersonal bow. His concentration back on activity near the side entrance, he looked beyond her for a moment, to the far side of the church, and then turned a cool gaze to her. "Your Majesty?"

"_Dear_ Joseph…"

He flinched at her words, and her heart tightened when she saw him frown warily. Clarisse hesitated. Would he even want her now? There was no doubt that _she_ wanted Joseph Coraza. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life.

Clarisse took a deep breath.

"Is it too late," she began, her voice breaking as his blue eyes met her gaze, "to ask you to accept my hand in marriage?"

She waited anxiously as an expression of surprise swept over his features and he looked away, at the floor.

Her hopes sank. Joseph cleared his throat.

"Well, I thought you would never ask," he replied nonchalantly, as if she'd merely requested he accompany her on a stroll through the parish garden.

Dearest Joseph- _her_ Joseph!

A moment later, she was taking his arm, gliding down the aisle…to everyone's absolute astonishment. Clarisse laughed as bewildered guests stared wide-eyed at the two of them.

Of course! _No one could have ever suspected she and Joseph loved each other! _

This had to be a _total_ surprise- a _shock_ to everyone!

She laughed again. The thought of doing something scandalous was a delicious feeling and she was delighted to be flaunting propriety so flagrantly.

"Well, you were all here!" she exclaimed, enjoying her moment of outrageous behavior. She slipped her arm through Joseph's arm, not for support but because she wanted to touch him. It felt wonderful; she planned to never let go.

At the front of the church, the families and special guests, Sebastian Motaz, and the bishops were all watching with stunned expressions. She giggled in delight. Oh, how was she _ever_ going to explain this lapse in decorum?

_The Lord Archbishop!_ An awful, sobering thought occurred to Clarisse: would he be so taken aback in astonishment that he would refuse to perform the ceremony? Would he demand she and Joseph confer with him first and _convince_ him of their love for one another?

Determined not to lose him this time, Clarisse Gerard Renaldi, Queen of Genovia and Protector of the People and the Faith, gripped Joseph's arm tighter and squared her shoulders in preparation for battle.

_Absolutely no one was going to stop her from marrying Joseph today!_

_No one!_

Clarisse took his arm and Joseph's heart soared.

* * *

A beaming Clarisse at his side, Joseph continued down the aisle. What had changed her mind? Had she loved him all along, but truly felt her responsibilities would prevent her from marrying? Or was there some other reason for refusing him that she could not reveal? Whatever the explanation, he did not care.

Clarisse joked to the crowd and he laughed. But, his expression became serious as they reached the midway point. Parliament sat to the left of the aisle while most representatives and visiting heads of state were to the right. What would be their reaction?

Surely, everyone was aware of his regard for Clarisse, if not his love. He had been careful to never step out of bounds, but he had _never_ hidden how he felt. Not everyone would approve, he knew, and if anyone were to object publicly to the marriage, it would be in the coming moments. He would not give Clarisse up. His jaw tightened.

On the second row, King Stefan was nodding his agreement at the turn of events, and Queen Helene dabbed at her eyes. King Gustav laughed merrily and gave Joseph an exaggerated wink. They had the support of her closest friends, at least. Joseph relaxed a bit.

Andrew and Mia's families seated in the front of the church appeared completely baffled. Several, in fact, were frowning and talking amongst themselves. The others were staring at him and Clarisse.

They reached the altar. Time to face what was to come.

Before he could speak, Clarisse's authoritative voice filled the church, her words sounding more like a command than a request.

"My Lord Archbishop, I would like to take this man as my husband, if you please."

The bishop returned looked heavenward, lifting his hands in thanksgiving. "_Finally_!"

There were heartfelt "amen's" from the Lord Bishop's assistants, and "It's about time!" from someone seated in the pews behind them.

Seeing the perplexed look on Clarisse's face, Joseph could barely contain his laughter.

Sebastian Motaz stepped forward and touched him on the shoulder. "May I stand with you, sir?" he asked quietly.

"I would be honored," Joseph replied, very glad for the prime minister's support and for the gold band Motaz held in his palm. There was certainly going to be an interesting tale passed down with that ring!

The Archbishop addressed the congregation. "Fellow Genovians and friends, love is indeed a blessing from Heaven. Over the years, we have been privileged to witness this love expressed in many way- respect, selflessness, and unconditional trust. And now, by the union today of this man and woman, we are blessed to behold its public confirmation."

He stopped and smiled at them both before continuing. "We rejoice in its open declaration, so long in its coming, and we acknowledge from whence all Love ultimately flows."

The bishop turned to them. "Please repeat after me."

Clarisse's pronouncement of her love was life itself to his heart and soul, and Joseph looked at his beloved, telling her with his eyes how much he loved her as well as with words. Before slipping the wedding ring on Clarisse's finger, he paused and lifted her hand to his lips…one last time as simply her subject.

"With this ring, I thee finally wed."

A minute later, the archbishop proclaimed them married and gave Joseph permission to kiss his wife. Behind them, Mia whooped with joy. Clarisse, who had absolutely no intention of waiting demurely for the kiss she longed for, leaned forward- or rather _leaped, _as numerous onlookers later took great delight in describing it- to press her lips to her husband's…

_Finally!_

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Never, in all the years Joseph had been at her side, had he touched her other than in the impersonal execution of his duties. And now, her heart pounded with excitement.

_Joseph was her husband!_

Clarisse pressed closer, lost in the heaven of Joseph's arms holding her possessively. Behind them, the Lord Bishop shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Slowly, Joseph pulled away just enough to see her face. He smiled and then kissed her again.

The Lord Bishop cleared his throat loudly twice, and the newly wed couple reluctantly parted. Clarisse thought she saw a roguish spark in her somber Head of Security's eyes, and moved toward him yet again in expectation of another kiss, but Joseph lifted her hand to his lips.

"My love," he whispered. "Are you ready?"

Clarisse smiled. There would be time for more kisses later. "Yes." She turned and took the bouquet from a grinning Mia. Together, she and Joseph turned to face the packed sanctuary, and then made their way down the steps and aisle to face the hundreds gathered there. Her friends were still smiling, but what of others?

A trace of worry crossed her mind as they passed the front row of pews. How would the continent's leaders and the gathered elite react to this unexpected union? Would there be whispered words of disapproval and glances filled with reproach behind their backs? Her earlier elation at defying propriety forgotten, Clarisse forced back panic. What would the Genovian people say? Would they be angry at this turn of events? Would they feel she had let them down? Would her reign end on a note of disapproval and dissatisfaction?

She had flouted convention and society in a most flagrant manner; now, it was time to face the consequences. Her hand tightened on Joseph's arm. So be it. Clarisse lifted her chin higher in resolve. Never, despite what anyone said, would she give up Joseph or regret marrying him. _Never!_

Mia, who had accepted Andrew's arm when he gallantly offered it, followed her grandmother down the aisle and into the vestibule. Clarisse heard her granddaughter calling to her, and she let go of Joseph as her granddaughter flew into her arms. "Grandma! Oh, Grandma, I'm so happy for you and Joseph!" Mia cried ecstatically. "I've wanted this to happen for so-o-o long!"

"You've wanted-?"

"Congratulations, Joe!" Mia bubbled, reaching out to plant a kiss on Joseph's cheek. "Oh, this is just the absolute best- we're related now!"

"Indeed we are," he answered with a smile, giving the princess a kiss in return.

Mia hugged Clarisse again, and then squealed at the sight of her maid of honor running toward her, pink dressed hiked up above her knees. Mia met Lilly halfway, and the squeals doubled as the two young women bounced up and down, clinging to each other.

Amid the confusion, Queen Helene hastened across the room to kiss Clarisse's cheek, then the other. "My dear! This is just wonderful! We've _longed_ for this. I just knew it would happen one day."

"But, how-"

"You are a beautiful bride, my dear," King Stefan said, taking Clarisse's hands in his and pecking her on the cheek. He moved aside quickly as King Gustav squeezed between them and grabbed Clarisse with both arms.

"It's about time the two of you walked down the aisle," Gustav boomed. He threw a wink toward Joseph. "For a while, you had us all worried! Congratulations, Colonel!"

"You were worried?" Clarisse looked to the beaming faces of her three closest friends. "You _knew_?"

Stefan cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed at Clarisse's bewilderment. "Clarisse, everyone knew," he answered gently, but unable to hide his amusement.

_"Everyone?"_

"Well," Gustav chuckled, "there might be a couple of farmers over in Norway who'll be mighty surprised when they watch the news, but as for everyone else…" He burst into laughter at the look on her face.

"How could you have ever known?"

"Dear, it was so obvious," Helene replied with a wave of her hand. "We've expected this for _ages_…"

* * *

As Clarisse's friends hovered about her, Joseph turned away to face Shades.

"Congratulations, sir." Shades stuck out his hand.

"Thanks," he replied, raising his voice to be heard over the growing din. Someone bumped against him. It was becoming far too crowded. He shook the younger man's man and glanced around the room nervously. Clarisse was right behind him, Mel and Pearson just behind her. "The assignments need to be-"

"Don't worry- we've got it covered," Shades answered. "The guys are on it, and Hans and Anton are with the princess."

Joseph shook his head and looked back toward the sanctuary, where guests were spilling out, chattering excitedly over what had occurred. "It's hard to believe."

"Believe it," Shades laughed, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd's echo in the stone entranceway. He smiled. "Relax, boss, and enjoy your wedding and your new life."

Again glancing over his shoulder to where Clarisse last stood, Joseph frowned; she was not there. "It seems I'm not doing a very good job- I've already lost my wife."

Sunlight spilled into the area as the massive front doors were pushed open. Cheers from the street filled the air. "I think we've found her," Shades quipped, hurrying after Joseph toward the doors.

Clarisse blinked in the bright sunlight, lifting a hand to block the sun as she moved out through the open doors, and then turned the gesture into a wave. In front of the cathedral, and for blocks in either direction, crowds thronged the streets waving Genovian flags. Colorful streamers hung from shop fronts and windows, while large white bows and flowers decorated every lamppost.

"Oh, Joseph, just look at everyone!" she said, her smile growing wider. She waved again, and the crowd cheered. "They do not seem upset in the least." No one answered her and she looked to her left, where he always stood. "Joseph?" He had been right behind her a moment ago.

Quickly, almost at a jog, he came through the archway. Clarisse reached out, and he took her hand in his.

The crowd roared.

"Wave to our people," Clarisse said, turning to the crowd again.

"I'm afraid I haven't had waving lessons," he countered. "If you recall, I was driving that day." Clarisse laughed. Embarrassed, Joseph raised his left hand and did his best.

"Kiss her!" someone in front called, and the crowd took up the cry. "Kiss! Kiss!"

"I can, however, handle this," he said turning to face her. He touched her cheek tenderly. On tiptoes, Clarisse leaned toward her husband as he slipped his arms around her. Joseph kissed her thoroughly. Slowly, one foot began to rise, the hem of Clarisse's dress sliding toward her knee exposing a silk-clad leg.

"You most certainly can," Clarisse whispered dreamily as she gazed up at him.

"Are all our kisses to be in public, my queen?" he teased, as the crowd roared again. Bells pealed, drowning out her answer, as a glass-encased carriage drew to a stop before the cathedral, and confetti filled the air.

Gasping as someone grabbed her arm from behind, Charlotte Kutaway clutched at the folder of papers to keep them from sliding from her arms.

"You're with me," Shades said, pushing her towards the sedan waiting two car lengths behind the carriage.

"But Her Majesty and the Princess! We have to-"

"Taken care of," Shades answered gruffly with a jerk of his head, motioning over his shoulder to the limo. Behind the sedan, Mia was struggling to stuff herself and her voluminous wedding dress into the back seat with Lionel doing what he thought best to help. To the side, Anton and Hans were trying not to laugh.

"I'll drive," Shades continued, motioning to Darryl, who left to join Mel and Pearson. He opened the passenger door for her and glanced to where Joseph was helping his bride into the carriage. "Right now, we need to go over the evening's plans," he added just before closing her door with a firm push.

His eyes skimmed over the crowd, and then back to the carriage as he rounded the car. Mel closed the carriage door behind the newlyweds and gave him a discreet thumbs up, and Shades nodded in return. Behind them, a door slammed, followed by a squeaky _"Sorry!"_ Shades shook his head as he watched Lionel jerk the limo door open and then stuff the now soiled dress he'd caught in the door hinge back into the limo. Shades scowled and got in.

Charlotte sighed in relief as she sank into the deep leather seat and let her head rest against the seatback.

"I hope Princess Mia wasn't planning on using that dress next time she plans to have a wedding- whomever she decides on," Shades said, starting the engine.

"That's one dress that'll never see the light of day again," Charlotte replied with a sigh. "A shame, really- it is such a pretty design."

"Was," Shades muttered. He cleared his throat. "I don't know why I ever expected this wedding to go as planned."

"But wasn't it wonderful," Charlotte answered dreamily. "Her Majesty and Joseph married!" She sighed again and Shades reached over to squeeze her hand.

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, giving her a quick smile before letting go. "But, it's not over yet." He put the car in gear and let the car creep slowly forward, following the carriage. "I figure that after the signing at City Hall, we can follow the schedule as before…up until the honeymoon, at least."

Ahead, the carriage stopped and Shades stepped on the brake. "As for tomorrow and the coming week," he continued, "we'll have to find out what they want to do." He gave Charlotte a quick glance. "You think they'll use the honeymoon plans the princess and Jacoby made?"

"It's possible," Charlotte said, pulling out her cell phone. "But, Her Majesty is _not_ fond of wind surfing or parasailing, so I doubt it."

"I bet Joseph would be up for it," he answered with a laugh. "Well, at least the princess will be sticking close to the palace for a while after this. Heaven knows she's giving the press enough to write about already."

"Isn't that the truth!" Charlotte said, punching numbers on the phone. "I've got enough to do as it is. I just hope the registry at City Hall can- Hello? This is Charlotte Kutaway from the palace. Oh, you've heard." Charlotte nodded her head. "Yes it's true. Will you be able to handle the paperwork changes without delay?"

She listened intently for a moment before covering the phone. She looked to Shades. "How long will it be before we arrive?"

He shrugged. They'd crept forward a whole twelve meters, and it was ten blocks to City Hall. "Maybe eighteen minutes- once we get past the turn, we should be able to make better time. There's fewer places along there for crowds to stand."

Charlotte relayed the estimate and gave the clerk information about the queen as the car moved forward again. She covered the phone again. "Do you know Joseph's birth date and his blood type?"

He gave her a look. She pointedly ignored it and turned her attention back to the phone. "We'll have to wait on that."

Ahead of them, the carriage began to move again, Mel and Pearson on foot at either side. Shades let off the brake and allowed the car to roll forward a whole three meters before stopping yet again.

* * *

"Happy, my dear?" Joseph watched his bride intently. "This was all rather…sudden and with little time to discuss things. Do you have any second thoughts?"

"None," Clarisse replied vehemently. "I just regret the time I wasted." She looked away. Outside, bits of colored paper fell like snow, sliding off the clear dome of the carriage. Her voice barely above a whisper, she continued. "Oh, Joseph, I am so sorry! All those years-"

"Hush, my love." His arm around her, he turned Clarisse to face him. "No time at your side was ever wasted- it was where I _wanted_ to be, and I would have waited another seven years if necessary."

Under them, the carriage began to roll. Disregarding the hundreds of people cheering outside, Joseph claimed his new bride's lips and pulled her close. Her arms went around his neck, urging him on. She was breathless when he lifted his head and regarded her closely. Without a word, he released her, and then settled back in his seat, a slight smile on his lips.

Stretching his legs out, he lifted his hand acknowledging the waves from the crowd. His skills in that area seemed to have improved dramatically, she noted. "I don't think I shall kiss you again until we are alone."

Suddenly aware of the crowd just outside, Clarisse straightened her dress and hoped she did not look as ruffled as she felt. "You won't?"

"No." He turned a smoldering gaze at her. "Because if I do, I shall not be able to stop until I have stripped that pretty dress off you and kissed you everywhere I've longed to."

"Oh!" Clarisse felt her face flush as red as the roses decorating the carriage rails. "Oh, I see."

"I think we've given everyone enough to talk about for one day. Don't you, my dear?" Joseph asked mildly, waving to a group of schoolchildren.

Truth told, Clarisse wouldn't have minded giving the people a little bit more to talk about, but instead she waved sedately to the crowd and wondered just how fast they could get through the reception and back to the royal apartment.

* * *

_Note: I know it's been a long time since this was updated, however this chapter and and the next were somehow turned into squares instead of text- **very** disheartening. None of the tricks to restore the text have worked, so I had to recreate this chapter from notes. Unfortunately, the next chapter was not from notes. At least I have other chapters written.   
_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"_Why_ are all of you lollygagging about when there's work to be done?" Miss Parker boomed, clapping her pudgy hands twice. "I'll _not_ be letting my queen and her new husband come home to a reception for _someone_ _else_ and this sort of confusion and disarray- not while I'm still breathing on _me own two feet_!" She spun around to face the printer, who was opening the last box of embossed napkins. "We need eight hundred napkins with a 'C' and 'J' intertwined on them," she demanded, "and five hundred cards with today's date and names of Their Majesties, along with the royal crest."

The printer turned beet red and sputtered. "But that's impossible!"

"We'll use the _palace_ napkins for the luncheon," Miss Parker continued, ignoring the apoplectic man, "giving you _three_ hours to get them printed and delivered for this evening's reception."

"But-"

"If they aren't, I will personally _track_ you down and find out _why_." Dismissing the still-fussing printer, she fixed her gaze on the baker brought in from Paris. The man stared down his nose at her.

"Find a way to disguise those 'J's on those petty-fours," she ordered, hands on her hips.

"And just how do you propose one goes about changing decoratives on five hundred cakes?" he sniffed. "They are edible works of art."

"One squirts _icing_ on 'em," Miss Parker shot back. "Make them into flowers or bells."

The man nearly fainted. "One does not squirt-"

"_And_," Miss Parker continued, "that groom's cake…what is it?"

He glared at her as if she were an ignorant peasant. "Traditionally, the groom's cake is a smaller cake-" the man began with exaggerated patience, but she had none of her own and abruptly cut him off.

"No, I mean what _kind_ is it?" Miss Parker gave him the look she reserved for a fly in butter.

"Lemon."

"Mr. Coraza isn't overly _fond_ of lemon cake or pies…or lime punch, for _that_ matter," she mused. "We will need a _new_ one."

The baker drew himself up and huffed, "I cannot possibly prepare a new cake-"

"I can," Gerta said, giving the man a withering glance. "You leave the groom's cake and the punch to me, Miss Parker." The two women exchanged understanding nods before Gerta hurried away to her kitchen.

Miss Parker gave the baker a contemptuous glare and gestured to the dozens of trays filling the racks. "Get going." She rounded on Her Majesty's maids.

"Priscilla, make sure the sheets on Her Majesty's bed are _fresh_ ones and put extra towels in the bath. Olivia, clear a bit of room in the casual closet _and_ a drawer in the tallboy and bath vanity. Mr. Joseph will need space to put his things for the night. You can rearrange to suit them later."

"Yes, Miss Parker," the two lady's maids chimed in unison before hurrying away. The dragon-lady cast a sharp eye over the flower arrangements. Behind a huge potted plant, the floral designer shuddered.

"There should be more roses," she murmured, her eyes narrowing.

"Miss, I can have a fresh cut rose and fern spray on each table- not from Her Majesty's garden, but from a florist in Pyrus," Manuel, the head gardener, offered quietly. "A short, round vase would look best, I think," he added, waiting for her approval.

Miss Parker took a long look at the sun-bronzed man, his glossy black hair slicked back, just barely touching his collar, and at the sharp cut of muscles under his rolled up sleeves. An eyebrow rose. She smiled. "An _excellent_ idea," she said, not entirely referring to the roses. Manuel nodded, giving her a small bow of acknowledgement, and walked toward the door. Miss Parker's gaze lingered on his lean backside as he did, her smile widening. "Most excellent, indeed!"

* * *

"I stopped by the queen's suite," Joseph explained, as he stepped into one leg of his tuxedo pants then the other. "It was filled with an inordinate number of women giggling and whispering, so I thought it best to…"

"Escape?" Shades offered. They were in a short lull of activity after the private, late luncheon and before guests began arriving for the evening's formal reception, so the agents had gathered in the basement headquarters to grab a quick bite and double-check their assignments.

"Yes. Exactly," he agreed, hooking his suspenders to his trousers. He reached for his cummerbund. "Retreat is sometimes the better part of valor where women are concerned. Besides, all my clothes are here."

When the laughter died, Shades cleared his throat. "Boss, we're really pleased for you and Queen Clarisse."

"Thank you," Joseph replied.

"Been a long time coming!" Anton added. The others nodded agreement.

Buttoning his shirt, Joseph shrugged. "She's a lady worth waiting for."

There was a murmur of consensus, with Lionel's voice rising above the others. "Yeah, it's been so long that all the dates in the betting pool had passed except one," he chirped brightly, pleased to be adding to the men's conversation. For some unknown reason, he had found he wasn't often allowed in the men's conversations,.

Joseph's hands stilled, the ends of his tie dangling at his throat. "Betting pool?" he asked carefully, his gaze raking across the group of men. They all looked away, anywhere but at Joseph.

"Uh…You see, sir…It was like this…" several voices ventured.

Joseph peered at Lionel just long enough. Under the intense stare of Colonel Joseph Coraza, about whom Lionel, in his short stay at the palace, had heard dozens of exciting tales, the boy hurriedly explained.

"It was a pool to predict when you and the queen would…" Lionel wagged his head from side to side and grinned. "…you know!"

"Would _what_?" Joseph asked slowly.

"Well, when you'd get married. Kind of like the bets about how many propositions you'd get from women at a ball or a reception." The other agents groaned, but Lionel was warmed up now; he'd _never_ had the chance to discuss such manly things, and everyone's attention was completely on him. He laughed. _"__Oh, man! It is so cool!"_

Despite himself, Joseph had to ask why.

"I mean, here you are, an _old guy_," Lionel explained, his voice cracking and jumping an octave in his excitement, "and the women -_young ones!- _are still hitting on you." He shook his head. "Amazing!" He laughed again, his expression one of pure admiration and awe.

To a man, the palace security staff tossed their badges on the table and started removing their weapons, fully expecting to be fired on the spot.

A smile tugged at the corner of Joseph's mouth as he deftly looped his tie over and under. He allowed just a hint of pride to color his words as he replied, "There must be a good reason why- don't you think?"

There was a moment of surprised silence before the room echoed with laughter. Shades grabbed Lionel by the neck and held him in a death grip. "You and I need to talk later," he growled through gritted teeth that almost looked like a grin. He pushed Lionel as far away from Joseph as possible.

"I would appreciate it, however," Joseph continued, "if no one mentioned that to my wife…and if there were no further betting on my personal activities." The group nearly fell over themselves assuring him there wouldn't be.

"Now, I believe you all have positions to take?" He silently bid Shades to stay as the agents filed out of the room, dragging Lionel with them.

"Sir, I'm very sorry," Shades said earnestly, as soon as the door swung shut. "No harm was meant."

"Who won?"

"Well, Anton won the pot at the last ball. He edged out Pearson when the Countess Du-"

Joseph waved a hand impatiently. "No, I mean the wedding."

Shades smiled broadly. "I did, sir."

"You bet the very latest month possible? Why?"

Shades shifted from one foot to the other. "The latest _year_, sir."

Pulling his jacket from the hanger, Joseph rolled his eyes.

"See," Shades hurriedly explained, "I knew there was a very strong attraction between you and the queen- it was obvious to everyone."

Joseph brushed a piece of lint from the material and then slid an arm into a sleeve. "Go on."

"And, I knew you loved each other, but Her Majesty is very…dedicated to her role as sovereign. And you never appeared to put any pressure on her…you were simply her friend."

Joseph smiled as he shrugged on the black jacket.

Shades took a deep breath. "So, I figured it might be a long time before the two of you quit circling each other and-"

"I get the picture," Joseph interrupted, holding up his hand. "Good observing…even if your subjects were myself and the queen."

Shades reddened, despite the lack of ire in Joseph's words.

Joseph checked his watch then clipped on his waist holster and gun without thinking. "I should go see if the queen is ready for the reception. Stay close- and keep that mop-haired disaster away from us."

"Yes, sir, I will." Shades answered, deciding Lionel was best used guarding the kitchen entrance. "Uh, sir, do you think it necessary to wear…" He gestured to the gun.

This time it was Joseph's turn to be embarrassed. "I suppose," he answered slowly, "that it might not set the right tone for the bridegroom to wear a gun."

"Probably wouldn't," Shades agreed without a trace of humor, noting the former Head of Royal Security's expression.

"I've worn a gun for so long," Joseph said, taking off the holster, "every moment alert for any threat..." He placed the gun on the desk, his hand remaining on the worn leather, and let his breath out in a rush. "I might still wear it on occasion, when out with Her Majesty."

"Sure. If you feel it necessary, I have no objections," Shades concurred. While he believed he had Joseph's trust, he knew that old routines were hard to change. His boss was going to have to make some major adjustments.

"Not that I don't have confidence in your abilities," Joseph continued sincerely, "it's just that I still feel responsible for her safety. And after all these years, always watching…"

"Understandable." Shades shrugged a shoulder.

"I'll try not to get in your way." Joseph smiled, shoving the weapon toward Shades. "Even so, if I am interfering with your security arrangements, don't hesitate to speak up."

"Fair enough," Shades answered, taking the gun and locking it up. Joseph knew the combination, so had access at any hour. He turned to face his former boss. "Sir, may the men take an opportunity to congratulate you and Her Majesty?"

"Yes, certainly. See that they do- and the rest of the staff as well. The queen- Clarisse would like that very much."

Shades opened the door for them then paused and turned to Joseph. "Sir, you always knew when your mike was on and we could hear the ladies, uh, hit on you…didn't you?"

Joseph grinned. "Well, I had to keep the respect of the young guys somehow, didn't I?"

Laughing, Shades followed Joseph down the hallway. "You certainly have that!"

Barely able to resist swaggering, Joseph went to find his bride.

* * *

But for his wife, the queen's apartment was empty when he returned. Clarisse was breathtaking in a shimmering deep blue gown, one she had worn to a ball two years before. He wondered if she knew it was his favorite. He said nothing, but stared at her.

"I'm sorry there were so many people in here earlier," Clarisse said haltingly, clasping her hands nervously. "When you left, I thought… Joseph, I hope you're not angry."

Slowly, Joseph crossed the room to take her hands in his, and then lifted them to his lips. His eyes darkened as they had in the carriage. "You are beautiful."

He lowered his head, barely brushing his lips against hers. "I seemed to have broken my promise about touching you," he whispered, his lips a breath away.

"Promises were made to broken," she countered softly. With an effort, he straightened.

"My dear, there are four hundred and sixty-seven guests waiting downstairs," he reminded her. "And as much as I want to stay here with you..." He kissed her again, quickly. "When we finally have time to ourselves…I don't want there to be _any_ interruptions."

Clarisse sighed. "I suppose so," she reluctantly agreed, looking away, missing his satisfied grin.

"But, here's a promise I will make- and keep." Then, leaning close, he whispered soft words in her ear. Clarisse smiled and sighed again.

* * *

Charlotte glanced at her watch then at Shades and frowned. All the guests had arrived and were waiting for the newlyweds' entrance. A jovial King Gustav had offered to go upstairs and see what was keeping the couple. The trouble was Charlotte wasn't certain if he was serious or just joking- or what he would find, if he did.

Normally, if the queen were late, someone would go knock on the apartment door- usually herself. This time, however, there was no way she was going up there. Shades pointedly looked at his watch and lifted one eyebrow. Charlotte fought back a nervous giggle.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the queen and Joseph rounded the corner. Their clothes were unwrinkled and not a hair of the queen's hair was mussed, she noted. That, at least, would cut down on the speculation of why the couple was late.

"We are ready, Charlotte," the queen said, blushing as she met the younger woman's gaze despite her business-like tone. "You may have the doorman announce us."

"How should we announce Joseph, Your Majesty?" Charlotte asked looking first to Joseph then the queen. "Properly, he is now _Prince_ Joseph."

Clarisse beamed at her husband. "You're quite correct, Charlotte. He certainly is."

Joseph shook his head. "No, I'm-"

"Or, we could use his military rank- Colonel Coraza," Charlotte offered. Thoughtfully, she tried out the sound of it. "Her Majesty and Colonel…"

Joseph held up a hand. "Really, I don't want-"

"We will use both!" Clarisse declared, ignoring her husband's protests.

Charlotte made a note of it and turned to walk away. "Very good. I'll inform-"

_"No."_ Joseph's voice was low, but unyielding.

"But, my dear, you're-"

"I'm _Joseph Coraza_," he stated firmly. "Just that. Joseph Coraza."

The two women looked at each other.

Clarisse gave in and nodded. "Very well. Tell the staff we are ready, please."

Charlotte hurried away, and Shades went to take his place inside.

"I can't believe we are standing here together," Clarisse said, taking his arm, the realization hitting her that he would accompany her, not just follow.

"I have accompanied you to many balls, Your Majesty," Joseph replied somberly, in his best official voice.

"Yes, but this time I will enter on your arm, and not alone."

"True, my queen," he replied softly, touching her cheek. "And I won't have to watch you from afar, wishing I was holding you in my arms."

"Every time the door opened, Joseph, I knew you would be there, waiting. I always looked for you- did you notice?"

"I thought you were simply checking up on your Head of Security, my dear," he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"I knew you would be close by, watching over me." The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled.

"Any excuse to be near you."

She looked up at him, wondering how she could have denied her love for him for so long. "Stay with me, Joseph. This evening, I want only you."

"I will be at your side, my love," he answered softly, leaning towards her to seal his promise.

Just as he pulled his bride into a passionate kiss, mussing her hair, the doors flew open with a flourish.

* * *

The palace staff, which had waited years for the moment when their very own Joseph would enter with the queen on his arm, furtively crowded the edges of the doorways and stairs to get a glimpse. A whispered discussion raged among the lady's maids and housekeepers about how the couple would be announced. Finally, a hush fell over the ballroom as the doorman banged his staff three times.

"Announcing," he called out grandly as the doors swung open, his voice carrying to every corner of the room and beyond, _"Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Coraza."_

The staff nodded approvingly at the sight of the couple kissing and at the introduction. Not a technically correct introduction for a royal, but entirely appropriate, they all agreed. As for the kiss…it seemed Joseph was a man of many talents, without a doubt. In that moment, Miss Parker found the inspiration for her next book.

On the ballroom floor, everyone but security personnel bowed or curtsied as the couple entered the ballroom. Shades could barely contain a grin as the newlyweds passed him. He glanced at Charlotte; tears were spilling down her cheeks. Without a word, Shades pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it to her.

"It's like a fairytale," she sighed between sniffs. Shades gave her a tolerant smile, and then moved to follow his queen and her husband.

* * *

After an evening of receiving hundred of wishes for happiness, dancing, and toasts by Gustav, Stefan, Prime Minister Motaz and a dozen others, Clarisse found her husband's arms around her just as the lights in the garden dimmed. In anticipation of the fireworks to come, the guests were milling about the garden paths as the Genovian Grand Orchestra began playing, filling the garden with glorious music. In the dim light, the newlyweds shared a tender kiss.

"This has been wonderful," she sighed, leaning against Joseph's chest, content.

"The night has only begun, my love," he whispered, pulling her away from the crowd, and up the steps. Behind them, a grinning Hans and Anton smoothly moved to block anyone following.

"Joseph! We can't just sneak away!" She glanced back to see if everyone was staring at their obvious getaway, but saw only the backs of the two huge guards.

"We most certainly can…and are," he replied firmly, leading her quickly through the open French doors and along the passageways. _Sneaking away- at her age!_ Clarisse couldn't help but laugh. They did not run, but it was surely the quickest trip up the stairs she had ever made.

Entering their apartment, Joseph let go of her hand to shut the door. Clarisse moved to the center of the room, becoming conscious of the fact that they were alone. She touched the necklace of sapphires and diamonds at her throat nervously. _Oh, really, Clarisse! You are not a young, inexperienced bride! _ But, that was exactly how she felt. With Rupert, there had not been passion; but, with Joseph… She lifted her gaze to her husband.

Leaning against the door, he was watching her. Slowly, he walked toward her, his gaze still locked with hers. Without a word, he took her in his arms and lowered his head to press his lips to hers, first gently and then more urgently. "_Amor de mi corazon_," he murmured, trailing kisses across her neck. "Love of my heart…. how I've longed to hold you."

His embrace and kisses were much more intimate than the closeness they had shared after wedding, and Clarisse suddenly realized she could touch him _anywhere_ she desired. It was a heady feeling, as intoxicating as the chilled champagne they had sipped earlier. She hesitantly placed her hands on his chest and felt hard muscle underneath the stiff shirt of his tuxedo. Her hands slid down, to his sides…then further to his hips, pulling him tight against her.

"Now that you have me, don't ever let go," she demanded, as the light of red and gold fireworks flashed through the window.

"Never, my sweet. _Never!"_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Joseph rounded the corner, knowing he would find one of the security staff stationed in the front hall. After a leisurely late breakfast with Clarisse in her- no, _their_ apartment, he had made a trip into town to gather some of his clothes and other necessary items only to return and find his wife gone. He had checked the morning room where Clarisse had intended to see Helene and two cousins before they left, followed by the study and library, all to no avail. He could not just wander about the palace searching every nook and cranny.

At the reception area, he gestured for Shades to join him as he walked a few paces away from the desk and the other staff. "Where is my wife?" he asked quietly. He thought he saw the corner of the younger man's mouth twitch, but the new security chief had the wits about him not to laugh.

"In her office, sir," Shades replied, keeping his voice low.

Joseph frowned. That was the last place he would have looked. Wed barely twenty-four hours, she was already again at work?

"She asked Miss Kutaway to join her less than an hour ago," Shades explained. Wordlessly, Joseph turned and headed toward the business part of his new home.

"Oh, Joseph! I'm glad you've returned," Clarisse said as he entered the room, giving him a warm smile that reflected memories of the night before. There was a different light in her eyes making her even lovelier. "We have several things to discuss."

"Yes, we certainly do," he agreed, finding her seated behind her desk, glasses on and pen in hand. There was the matter of their future, for starters, followed by Mia's assuming the crown in just three weeks. First, however, he wanted to get her out of her office and away from the paperwork. "Perhaps we can walk in the garden while we talk?" he suggested, trying to negotiate their new relationship carefully. "Coffee in the gazebo?"

Hesitating only a moment, Clarisse set the pen down. She looked at him then Charlotte. "Sounds lovely. Please ask the kitchen to send a tray."

Her hand in the crook of his arm, they slowly walked the garden path, Joseph steering her to the smaller, more private garden and away from where workers were busy packing the remaining tables and chairs from the previous evening.

"I still cannot believe we're married," Clarisse declared, holding his arm tighter, looking up at her husband.

"You can't?" Joseph took a deep breath. "And after all my efforts last night…" He shook his head. "Seems I should have tried harder."

"Joseph!" Clarisse whispered in embarrassment. He laughed softly. Keeping her voice low she added, "Last night was wonderful."

"It certainly was," he agreed quietly, stopping under the shade of a small tree. He put his arms around her. "Very wonderful, with more wonderful to come." He kissed her, his lips caressing hers then trailing across her cheek to the delicate area of her neck. When he lifted his head, he found her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly. With a deep sigh, her lashes fluttered open.

"If only we were alone in the garden," he murmured huskily. Clarisse blushed, and he gave her another quick kiss before leading her toward the gazebo. Seeing the couple approaching, the staff arranging the coffee service and table bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried away.

"It would be nice to have a little time to ourselves," Clarisse said wistfully, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. "Just you and me."

"There's nothing stopping us," Joseph responded. Looking away, she did not reply, and he knew there was something worrying his bride. He added lightly, "We can slip away to wherever you wish this afternoon. All the preparations for Mia's coronation are complete."

Clarisse remained silent as he led her up the gazebo steps to where a small table and two comfortable woven chairs were set back in the shadows. After helping her with the seat, he took his own chair.

"I spoke with Mia this morning, after our guests left," Clarisse began, pouring the steaming coffee into wafer thin china cups. "I'm very concerned about her, Joseph."

"I trust yesterday's events did not upset her more than would be expected," he said, taking his with a nod of thanks. Mia's dramatic cancellation of the wedding and subsequent appeal to parliament members from the pulpit of the church, along with Nicholas' rejection of any claim to the throne and his uncle's angry exit, were a match for the turmoil Mia had gotten herself into during the past few weeks. Clarisse looked worried, and his brow wrinkled. "Mia made her decisions with a clear head and heart, Clarisse. She will be fine."

Pouring cream into her coffee, she shook her head. "Perhaps on some matters, but she's confused on others."

"Such as?" He took a sip and sat back, waiting, hoping his suspicions about his wife's concerns were not true.

"Her feelings for Nicholas, for one," Clarisse answered. When he did not comment, she continued. "She and Andrew both agree that not marrying was the correct choice. However, her…interest in Nicholas is not as clear."

He shrugged and drank his coffee, now that it had cooled a bit, and found that it was very good and that he was very thirsty. "I'd say her interest in Nicholas is very clear."

"It is more complicated than that, Joseph," Clarisse stated matter-of-factly, setting her cup down.

"Their relationship- whatever form it may take- will have to be something _they_ work out, Clarisse," Joseph reasoned. "As for his suitability for marriage, that remains to be seen."

She looked at him sharply. "You think Nicholas is not suitable?"

He reached for the pot. "He has a number of actions to answer for," Joseph replied evenly, refilling his cup.

"Answer to whom?"

Joseph set the pot down and regarded her. "To Mia, to you…," he answered, watching her nod in agreement. "And, to me."

"To you? I don't understand."

"Have you already forgotten, my dear, that I was the Head of Royal Security while Nicholas and the viscount were doing their best to cause difficulties at the palace? They will answer to _me_," he repeated firmly. She considered this for a moment and sighed.

"I suppose there will have to be an investigation, of some sort. Must there be legal action?"

"Not unless Mabry declines to follow my advice," Joseph replied tersely. He already knew what he would demand.

"As for Nicholas, his situation is somewhat different from his uncle's," Joseph continued, choosing his words carefully. Within a year, he was certain Nicholas would wed Mia and thus become Clarisse's grandson-in-law. "While not involved in the planning of the mischief, he was certainly a willing participant. He did, however, try to rectify the situation, although at a rather late date."

"I agree." Clarisse hesitated before continuing. "Mia and Nicholas are very much attracted to each other- despite recent circumstances and her denial," she observed, pouring more coffee.

Joseph nodded once. "Keep in mind, my dear, this is something you cannot help them with."

"You are right, I can't," she agreed slowly, stirring in sugar and cream. "There is something I _can_ do to help Amelia." She placed the spoon carefully on the saucer and folded her hands in her lap, intent on what she had to announce. "I can give her time in order to think things through," she said, hurrying to add, "I've decided that my staying on as queen-"

"Clarisse-"

"Let me finish, Joseph. As I said, my continuing as queen- only a temporary delay, you see- would give her that opportunity."

"Can she not give thought to this while going ahead with the coronation as planned?" he asked, trying to control his impatience. A delay of a month or two could easily stretch into a year. After seven years at Clarisse's side, he knew her very well.

"As queen, she will have many other concerns and worries, and all the while she will be constantly in the public eye. It would not be an ideal start to her reign," Clarisse explained, laying her hand on his arm. "With the press watching their every move, they can hardly carry on a normal courtship."

"My dear, I understand all too well how royal responsibilities can interfere with relationships," Joseph countered dryly.

She smiled, mistaking his comment for one of agreement. She gave his arm a squeeze and then let go. She reached for her coffee. "This way, she- and Nicholas- can deal with things in relative private and with fewer distractions."

"How long?" he asked flatly.

The china cup nearly to her lips, she stared at him. "How long for what?"

"How long will her coronation be delayed?" he repeated, carefully keeping his voice level.

Clarisse set the cup down and gestured, her palms open. "Until such time as she is ready, of course! Really, Joseph," she added, cutting off his comment, "After all that has happened, Mia needs _time_. I spoke with her this morning, and she readily agreed to delay her coronation and said it was a relief not to accept the crown so quickly after such turmoil. In fact, she plans to return to San Francisco shortly for two weeks. We will say the trip is to visit with her new brother."

Joseph stared past the riot of blooming vines to the tall firs edging the Royal Forest in the distance. Clarisse was determined and there was no way he could stop the Queen of Genovia from following through; he was only her husband. Finally, he spoke. "Six months- till the end of the year. No longer."

"Joseph, one can hardly-"

"Six months, Clarisse," he replied firmly. "If you insist she wait, then so be it. But, remember that once queen, Mia will not be able to hide as she is now."

* * *

"Oh, yes!" Clarisse exclaimed, holding up the sample of wallpaper. "This will do nicely for Joseph's office." She reached for a coordinating fabric swatch and admired it at arm's length. "Lovely."

Charlotte took the samples and made a note of their name and number on her pad. The palace routine was back to normal. Accepting an offer from King Gustav after the impromptu wedding, Her Majesty and Joseph had spent a week at the king's mountain retreat, a time of quiet walks and evenings by the fire, according to Shades. Home at the palace for almost a week now, the queen had settled back in as before with one exception; she no longer worked late, but retired to the royal apartment before eight each evening. Tonight, Joseph was at a meeting with the Chief of Police, who had asked for his opinion on several matters. Alone, the queen had decided to begin plans for their future home, the Summer Palace, located in the northern part of Genovia.

Charlotte acknowledged the queen's choice with a smile, but did not comment as to whether or not the paper would be appropriate for Joseph. The print was not flowery, but was a bit busy, she thought. Moreover, a man's office should not be described as 'lovely.'

Clarisse pulled out several catalogs and chose a thick, glossy one. "Now, for the furnishings. I think this contemporary set would go well, don't you?" she said, opening it to a page marked with a paperclip. She showed it to Charlotte.

Over the years, the young woman had learned when it was best to agree and when to speak her mind tactfully. In this case, she spoke. "Your Majesty, has Joseph seen these?"

"Why, no. I thought I would surprise him," the queen answered, pleased at the thought. When Charlotte did not smile, but instead fingered the paisley print, Clarisse continued. "Why? Do you think he would not approve?"

"Well, when I visited his apartment," Charlotte began, but the queen interrupted.

"His apartment?"

"With Shades, in Pyrus," Charlotte hurriedly explained. The queen looked confused and she added, "He owns a residence in the Old Town area. I was having dinner with Shades one evening in town when Joseph needed to give him papers on a security matter."

"Oh." Clarisse let her hands drop to the desk, still holding the catalog. The thought of where Joseph lived had not crossed her mind. He had a room downstairs, like a select few of her staff. The Cates had an apartment at the palace, in order to be close at hand, and she had assumed he did the same. Now, the assumption seemed silly. He would have most certainly needed his own apartment before Rupert died, and the small room at the palace would not have sufficed in the years since. In the nearly three weeks of their marriage, she had not inquired about his personal things, nor had she even thought to suggest he might wish some of them in their palace apartment.

"And, you think Joseph would not care for this?" she asked quietly, lifting the brochure.

"Ma'am, from what I saw, Joseph prefers a less contemporary style- antiques, more precisely," Charlotte answered. "He has several beautiful pieces."

"I see." Thoughtfully, Clarisse stared at the catalog's cover and its chrome, minimalist fixtures. "Perhaps dusky lavender would not suit him, either."

"It would be my guess not," Charlotte agreed. Lost in her thoughts, the queen continued to stand quietly, and Charlotte slipped out to answer her phone.

_Nearly a month as his wife and she had never seen her husband's home._ There was, Clarisse realized, a great deal she did not know about the man she married.

Resolutely, she set the catalog aside and reached for another, one more traditional in its style. She slipped her glasses on and sat down. She had work to do if she were going to create a pleasant and appropriate surprise for her husband. Clarisse smiled. By Christmas, she was going to make the Summer Palace into a comfortable, cozy home for them- all thirty-nine rooms of it.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Joseph. Charlotte, please find the final draft of the European Kingdoms' trade agreement discussed at the last conference," Clarisse said, reaching for a nearby diplomatic pouch emblazoned with the Ravenstein royal crest.

In the doorway, Joseph took a deep breath. With an apologetic glance his way, Charlotte retrieved the folder and laid it on the queen's desk, beside the others.

"Clarisse, my dear," he said, taking a step into the office, "it is nearly seven o'clock."

"Is it?" She glanced at her watch then, in a flurry of activity, reached for the folder and a pen at the same time. "I didn't realize. The Prime Minister will be here shortly. I asked him to come by this evening to discuss several issues. Charlotte, change the agenda to include the trade agreement and print out last year's trade statistics. I want Sebastian's input on the terms dealing with export surcharges before I call Stefan tomorrow. Oh, and ask Mrs. Cates if she would have light refreshments sent in at-"

Clarisse stopped abruptly, her hand grasping the intricately detailed pen, and looked up at Joseph, her eyes wide. "Oh, Joseph! I completely forgot we were to meet your friend for dinner tonight."

Pressing his lips together, he did not answer for a moment, but placed his black leather jacket on the back of a Queen Anne chair. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he approached her desk. Charlotte mumbled something about the statistics before leaving the silent room as quickly as possible.

"I am truly sorry," Clarisse said, sitting back in her chair. When Joseph continued to stare at the floor, she gestured to the papers about her desk. "It's just that the trade agreement must be ratified at the next conference or-"

"Clarisse," Joseph interrupted, looking at her intently. "Shouldn't Mia be discussing the agreement with the Prime Minister?" he asked levelly, trying hard not to show his frustration with both the immediate situation and his wife.

Verifying with her a week ago that the night would be free, he had arranged Chesterson's stopover and dinner for the three of them. After dinner, Chesterson would leave for consultations in the Middle East on the last flight that evening. Prior to the wedding, when he had made plans to leave Genovia and start the consulting firm with the former Interpol Director, he had scheduled several jobs, wanting to keep himself very busy and his thoughts off Clarisse. Afterwards, Chesterson had considerately taken on the two consultations requiring travel out of Europe, allowing the newlyweds to take a honeymoon and spend time together. To show their gratitude, as well as introduce his good friend and business partner, Joseph wanted Clarisse at the dinner.

"She is not familiar with the terms or issues in the past."

"Is Sebastian?" he asked, taking a seat in the plush chair opposite her. With legs outstretched and elbows resting on the arms of the chair, to all appearances he was relaxed.

"Of course. He attended the meeting last March with me," she answered.

"In that case, this evening he can acquaint Mia with the issues and with Genovia's needs," Joseph replied matter-of-factly.

"Mia may have plans," Clarisse answered quickly without thinking. She looked away in embarrassment.

"None," Joseph said, staring at her. After a moment, Clarisse picked up her pen and looked at him over the top of her reading glasses.

"Joseph, I know this dinner was on the schedule, but I need-" Her husband cut her off in mid-sentence.

"My dear, you _must_ start turning over responsibilities to Mia."

Clarisse took off her glasses and placed them on the desk. "She has to be ready first! You can't just expect her to…to jump right into trade negotiations."

"It has been three weeks since you agreed to stay on as queen to help prepare Mia, Clarisse, and yet you are working just as hard as before, if not harder, despite Mia's presence in the palace," he replied firmly.

"There are _dozens_ of serious issues that must be dealt with, and Mia does not have the experience yet," she said, twisting the pen absently.

"Then give her the opportunity to become familiar with them, instead of sending her out on personal appearances and park dedications," he countered.

"It is necessary for the people to understand Mia is interested in their welfare," Clarisse responded defensively. "More than half of a queen's responsibility is ensuring she has the confidence and support of her subjects. Without it, she cannot rule effectively."

Joseph leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. "She must start taking on more complex duties, or she will never get the experience."

"She's very young and has been through a great deal, Joseph," Clarisse answered, picking up her glasses and slipping them into an embroidered case. "Being queen is quite different from other professions."

In the doorway, Charlotte glanced at Joseph then Clarisse, and then cleared her throat. "Your Majesty, the Prime Minister is here. I showed him into the blue room, ma'am."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Clarisse reached for the folders and stacked them neatly, tapping them on the desk. "Thank you, Charlotte. Please tell Prime Minister Motaz I won't be but a minute."

Joseph stood. "I will make your apologies," he stated, his voice without emotion.

"Joseph…I am terribly sorry," she offered quietly. "Perhaps the three of us can meet another time."

"Perhaps we can," he answered noncommittally, picking up his jacket. "Give my best to Sebastian," he called as he passed through the double doors and out of the room.

Silently, Clarisse watched him leave. Could Joseph not understand that even though she was now married, her duties and responsibilities had not changed- if anything, they had increased? She had not only a country to run, but also Mia to prepare to be queen. The duties of her office were a heavy burden and Mia needed to be ready when she assumed them. She was grateful that circumstances allowed the delay of Mia's coronation, giving her granddaughter breathing space to work out her personal affairs and learn her way about dealing with the Genovian government and other nations' leaders, without being in the spotlight.

Guilt heavy on her heart, Clarisse sat back in her chair. Even though she loved him with all her heart, she knew that he was looking forward to the day they moved away from the palace and the public eye. He had served her and Genovia unwaveringly, but he had not felt the weight of the country on either his shoulders or his heart. Whether he understood her devotion to her duty and people, she would do what she must.

Clarisse sighed as Charlotte came to stand just inside the doorway, waiting. Not going tonight was a terrible breach of etiquette, but it was too late to make amends. She would just have to make up for it later…when time permitted.

She pushed back from her desk and came to her feet. "Charlotte, please ask Mia to join the Prime Minister and me." It was not until she seated in the Blue Room with Motaz and her granddaughter that she realized Joseph had not kissed her goodbye.

* * *

"Anyone free to give me a ride into Pyrus?" he asked, knowing there was. As he was the queen's husband, all security courtesies and concerns now applied to him. Still, for personal errands, he preferred to drive himself. Tonight, it was likely he would have more than one drink with Chesterson and he preferred not to drive.

"Yes, sir," Shades said, wondering why Joseph would ask. Joseph usually attended the morning's briefings instead of the queen and knew the schedule. "Hans is assigned to drive you and Her Majesty to dinner and then Mr. Chesterson to the airport, on the way back to the palace."

"Her Majesty will not be going," Joseph replied evenly.

"Yes, sir," Shades acknowledged, showing no trace of his thoughts, which were that it was rather late for the queen to cancel a social engagement, and with an old friend of Joseph's at that.

"Alright, but there's no need for him to stay in the city. I'll call when we're ready to be picked up- it'll be about ten-thirty."

"In that case, I can take you in and Hans can come later. I'm leaving for home in about five minutes, if that's OK," Shades offered. "I'd like to run a few things by you, anyway."

Joseph nodded. "Fine."

It was nearly midnight when Joseph returned, waving off Hans' effort to reach the palace door before him. Save for for his steady steps, the palace halls were silent. Chesterson had graciously accepted Joseph's offer of Clarisse's regrets and made no further comment on her absence. The two of them spent the evening mainly discussing upcoming business contracts and plans, and Joseph had made a point of assuring his partner that he planned to be active in the business. In turn, Chesterson noted that as long as Clarisse was queen, it would be difficult. They would, they had agreed, work something out.

The light was on in their bedroom, with Clarisse sitting up in bed, reading. Not a novel, he noted, but official papers.

"Good evening, dear. Did you have a nice dinner?" she asked as he came in, putting the documents down. "Did you find your friend well?"

"Yes, Chesterson is doing very well. He sends his best wishes," he answered without stopping, continuing to an adjacent room to hang up his jacket and undress. He had assured her that the smallest closet, formerly used for her casual wear, would be more than adequate for his clothes and other personal effects. It should be; that particular space was larger than the bedroom at his apartment.

Keeping his t-shirt on, he pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms, brushed his teeth, and returned to their bed. Clarisse had put away the papers and reading glasses.

"Joseph," she began slowly, as he pulled the covers back from his side of the bed and slipped under them, crossing his arms behind his head. "I thought about what you said- about Mia taking on more responsibility- and I think you are correct."

There was no need for him to agree or comment, so he remained silent, his gaze on the ceiling. After a moment, Clarisse continued. "It will help her gain confidence in her abilities more quickly and be better prepared to lead Genovia."

Joseph shrugged a shoulder. "In all honesty, my dear, I was thinking more about us, than the country."

"What do you mean?" she asked, caught off guard.

Resting on his left elbow, he turned sideways to face her. "Clarisse, we have a life of our own to make."

"Well, of course, we do," she agreed. "And, we shall, Joseph." She smiled and drew up her legs, leaning on her shoulder so that they were facing each other. "Now, it was going to be a surprise, but I want to tell you now. We are going to the North Palace next week. The designers will be there and are ready to start work first on our private rooms and our offices. All they need is our direction." She folded her hands and watched him expectantly, her smile broadening.

The North Palace. He reached over and took her hand in his. "I was hoping we could have our own home, my dear. A _real_ home, not at a palace."

"But, Joseph! The Summer Palace will be a _lovely_ place for us. With the new airport, we can be in Pyrus in little under an hour- you can fly from there to several European cities for your consulting work. I think it will work out perfectly."

"There is a house- an estate actually, west of here- near the Granite Mountains that I'd like you to see."

"Why?" She shook her head in disbelief. "There are no large towns in that area. Whatever would we do, Joseph?"

"Be together," he said simply. "It is an hour's drive from here- even less by helicopter. We can easily return for any social engagements we wish to attend."

"A private home…" Frowning, she considered his suggestion. "I will continue to have obligations as the Queen Grandmother, you know- various social engagements, as well as several official duties."

Joseph nodded. "I know. As I said, you can easily return here and stay at the palace anytime there is a need." He had extended the option on Stone Manor after the wedding; he was convinced it would be the ideal home for them, if he could only get Clarisse to consider it.

"The Granite Mountains…" Clarisse thought for a moment, and then leaned over and kissed him. "I think it would be too isolated, dear." Sitting back, Clarisse rearranged her pillows and then turned off her light. "The Summer Palace will be more convenient and much better suited for our needs. You'll see."

Without comment, Joseph turned off his own light.

* * *

"That was delicious, Joseph. I have never eaten barbequed ribs before." Clarisse said, inspecting her sticky hands. She leaned forward and dropped her voice. "Or eaten with my fingers out in public!"

He smiled. Getting Clarisse out of the palace had taken a bit of persuading. "I recalled the time you insisted on trying new foods, my dear, and wanted to bring you here," he replied. He took the last bite of his steak and sat back. Beyond the deck's railing, the White River swirled past them, a background of music no orchestra could ever match.

"When?" she laughed. "I can't say I'm very adventurous when it comes to new dishes." Without thinking, she slipped one perfectly manicured finger into her mouth and sucked on the sweet sauce. The gesture was not lost on her husband. It took a moment before he could reply.

"While in San Francisco. I believe it was corndogs that caught your fancy," he answered, his voice rough. She laughed at the memory, and then realizing what she had done, quickly grabbed several paper napkins from the metal dispenser to dab at her hands.

Since pressing issues in Parliament caused her to cancel plans to visit the Summer Palace, her week was relatively free of other appointments, giving her more time with her husband. Going out for dinner in town was Joseph's idea, as was the choice of restaurant and her meal. He explained that the cafe was his favorite, a modest place overlooking the river. Forewarned, the owner had rearranged the potted palms, creating small, somewhat private area on a corner of the deck. He had also limited the number of guests, at Shade's suggestion, happy to accommodate his long-time customer Joseph, and the queen.

"I must say the corndog was not nearly as good, but it was _much_ neater to eat." The paper was sticking to her hands, and Joseph tried not to laugh at her expression.

"This is how one eats real food," he joked, watching her lose battle. Finally, she gave up. Hands in the air, she rested her elbows on the table- another first, he was certain.

"How does one pay?" she asked primly, playing along, even though she had not signed for a bill since she had married Prince Rupert.

"One takes out one's wallet," he explained, pulling his own from his back pocket. "It's where one's driver's license, credit cards, and family photos are kept."

"Ah, well, now I may not have the license or carry credit cards, but I _do_ have family photos," she countered.

And I, Joseph thought, have not one family photo. He stood and pulled her chair out. "In that case, you have the most important items of all, my dear," he answered, steering her toward the ladies' room. "Soap and water will help."

Joseph, she had quickly discovered, was well known in the older area of Pyrus. From the owner and staff of the restaurant, to the ancient-looking woman selling small bags of birdseed in the riverfront park, they all spoke to him by name. In the dim light of the streetlamps, it took the people a moment to recognize her, but their reaction surprised Clarisse. Instead of gushing over her, as people were apt to do, they seemed more pleased and proud of Joseph.

Strolling hand in hand along the bricked path on the cool September night, it was a different world for her. Although muffled by the river, the sounds of life were all around her- a car horn, a shout, the heavy slam of a door. It was in stark contrast to the hushed activity of the palace.

"I've missed so much," she confided to him. "There's whole life to be lived."

He lifted her hand to his lips. "I'm thankful I can share it with you, my love."

Tears came to her eyes, and he let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. She leaned against him, their steps slowed. "I love you so much!" she whispered, the tears flowing freely.

"Come home with me," he murmured, kissing her forehead, "and let me love you."

* * *

Stretching, Anton shifted his weight in the folding chair outside Joseph's apartment door, and checked his watch. Five in the morning. He flipped open his phone and hit redial.

"They're ready to go?" Mel asked groggily from the relative comfort of the sedan's front seat.

"No, but I'm ready for another cup of coffee," Anton answered. "You can sit up here while I guard the car."

"Sorry, you're the senior man on site," Mel retorted. "Closest to the queen, and all that."

Growling, Anton made his opinion clear, but when Mel rang off, the junior partner was laughing as he popped out of the car and headed into a nearby all-night eatery for coffee.

I can't put the fear in them like Joseph can, Anton thought. But that was not going to be a problem for long. The morning before, he had received a call from the university in London he had applied to earlier that spring. Several slots in the graduate Criminal Justice Program had opened with one offered to him. In December, he would be leaving. He smiled.

Not that he didn't like working for the palace; he did. Moving to London, though, would put him close to Cassie Addington, and that was worth smiling about. His smile changed to a grin.

Over the past four years, he and the young fashion designer had kept in touch, despite distance and unpredictable work schedules. At first, they kept their relationship simple. They were friends, seeing each other perhaps twice a year when schedules permitted. Cassie, with her sister, was working hard to establish their business, while he was busy with his job and completing his university studies.

Sometime during the third year, their relationship had changed and deepened, and the thought of waiting until after two more years of college to marry was disheartening. Even so, the thought of asking her father for her hand in marriage was downright frightening. Her father was Morley Addington, known far and wide as the disreputable Duke of Thornfield. Happily, he did not intend to bother when the time came. The duke showed no interest in his daughters, after all, and did not deserve to be given that respect.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and scrubbed his hands across his face then stared at the door. After dinner on the town, the royal couple had walked along the riverbank park. Even though he and Shades had tried to give Joseph and the queen privacy, they had to stay within a few yards. It was obvious the queen had become upset.

Crossing his arms, he leaned back in the rickety chair. What was it like, he wondered not for the first time, to be a royal? To him and practically every other person in Genovia, going out for dinner at a local pub or for an evening walk in Old Town was just everyday life. For the queen, it had brought on a bout of tears.

Conversely, how does a person go from being queen to not being queen? For longer than he had been alive, Queen Clarisse had been part of the royal family. What would she do? Puttering in the garden could hold a person's attention for only so long, he thought wryly.

There was noise on the stairs and he sat up, alert. The noise turned out to be the clomp of feet- Mel's, no doubt. "About time," he groused, taking the paper-wrapped cup.

"You're welcome." Mel jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Go get something to eat and guard the car," he said. Without hesitating, Anton was on his way down, two steps at a time, the crumpled bakery bag in hand. As loud as he dared, Mel called down after him, "Hey! That last chocolate donut was mine!"

* * *

_Note:_

_I am making an effort to finish this story by the end of the year, so I hope to have more chapters uploaded within a couple of weeks. I appreciate your reviews and notes of encouragement!  
_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disney, Buena Vista, and Meg Cabot own all the rights. I'm just playing with the characters and make no money or other profit from it. No copyright infringement is intended._

_

* * *

_Chapter 9

"You excited about going?" Shades asked, reaching across the booth's table to snag a french fry from Charlotte's plate. "I don't know why you order fries if you won't eat them," he added, just before shoving it in his mouth.

"_You_ eat them," she answered pointedly. Their day off coinciding, they had spent the beautiful early October afternoon hiking a trail in the Royal Forest just outside of Pyrus. Five miles and two muddy hours had convinced her they had to concentrate on other things they had in common- specifically those that did not ruin her shoes.

"True. Mighty thoughtful of you." He reached for another. "Are you?"

"You mean about going to Vienna?" His mouth full, he nodded, and she continued. "I am, but…Do you think we will have any time to ourselves?"

"You mean us?" He dumped a puddle of ketchup on his plate in anticipation of more fries.

"Well, it would be nice," Charlotte answered wistfully, wondering just who Shades thought she would be referring to if not the two of them. "I love working for the queen, but I wish…" She poked at the food on her plate then put the fork down. "I guess it doesn't matter. It's only for a while longer before the crown changes hands."

Shades took a bite of his burger. He hadn't thought about Charlotte's future, even though he knew Mia's good friend Lilly had agreed to be her aide and advisor and would be taking her place. He had assumed Charlotte would be working in the diplomatic field and would still be around Pyrus- and him. He loved her and, one day, he figured they would marry. But for now, he was in no hurry to change their relationship; he thought things were just fine as they were. Surely she would find another position in the capitol.

"I should be able to get some time off," he said. "I'd like to take you out while we're there." Her expression softened and Shades knew he had said the right thing. "Anywhere you want," he generously offered. He took another bite.

"Such a musical history," she sighed. "I would love to attend a matinee concert at the Vienna Konzerthaus. I love the waltzes."

Shades nearly swallowed his food whole. "You mean waste- I mean, spend it at a concert?" He tried not to let his disappointment show. "There's a terrific trail starting from Ottakring to the-"

Charlotte stared at him.

"But, that's only what several of the guys want to do," he added quickly, waving off the suggestion with his free hand. "A concert, that sounds a whole lot better."

"I'll have to check the schedule for which evening. Her Majesty has a function every night," Charlotte explained. "I think the second day might work best- it's a private dinner party with King Gustav, and I won't be needed. Can you get away?" Shades grunted in agreement, almost wishing he had never offered. When he reached across again for more fries, she pushed to plate towards him. "Here. You may as well take the rest of them."

"Thanks." Shades moved his empty plate out of the way to make room. "Nothing new about the queen working."

At mid-afternoon, the deli was nearly empty and they were sitting at the very last booth, away from the other customers, so Charlotte was not worried about being overheard. Still, she kept her voice low. "I know, but she's working harder than ever. You would think she'd have given more responsibility to Princess Mia by now. That's the whole reason they delayed her coronation- to let the princess get experience."

Shades chewed, thinking about what she said. "I get the feeling Joseph is not pleased about the delay."

"No, he's not," Charlotte said. She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "The queen doesn't think Princess Mia is ready."

He shrugged. "You know, if plans hadn't changed, Mia would queen by now, ready or not."

"Well, Her Majesty hasn't slowed down at all since the wedding, despite Joseph trying to convince her to." She picked up her glass of water but set it down without taking a drink. "At least she took time off for a honeymoon."

"What a wild wedding." He wiped up the last of the ketchup with a fry. "Makes you think eloping is the smart thing to do." Shades snorted. "Weddings can be a pain in-"

Noticing the dark look Charlotte was giving him, he stopped suddenly. "Did y'see the game last night?" he asked innocently, before jamming two fries in his mouth and reaching for more ketchup.

* * *

In Genovia, his marriage to Clarisse was accepted- even applauded by most. But, this was not Genovia and the affluent men and women filling the great hall were not the simple folk of a small, quiet kingdom. Many of the people turning to look at him and Clarisse were of the oldest and most influential families of Europe, while the others were simply curious.

After their wedding, the tabloids had a field day for two months, rehashing the admittedly peculiar turn of events, with Mia's flight from the alter to his and Clarisse's own surprising walk down the aisle. Many focused on the proceedings, but a quite a number of the columnists and commentators had questioned the propriety of such a move on the Queen of Genovia's part. While his wife may have been used to having her likeness on the covers of newspapers and magazines, he was not. He was very glad when another sensational headline took their place.

They had received congratulatory messages from across the continent; however, it was evident not everyone thought Clarisse's decision wise. With the help of Charlotte and Shades, he had intercepted several anonymous messages condemning her marriage to one considered a servant- someone beneath her. Because of their anonymity, they did not pass them on to Clarisse. The ones that were signed had to be delivered. Clarisse had read the notes then put them away without a word.

The doorman's voice rang out. "Her Majesty, Queen Clarisse of Genovia-" there was the briefest of pauses- "and Mr. Joseph Coraza." Around them, people leaned closer, whispering amongst themselves as the couple entered the lavishly decorated ballroom. By tradition, only royalty- and their spouses- were announced at the annual function.

"Do you remember the last time we were here?" she asked just loud enough for him to hear. Entering the main ballroom, she smiled at a vaguely familiar face and kept moving forward. Most guests had already arrived, and the stately building was crowded.

_Vividly_, he thought. His father had harassed him in front of a crowd, ranting about his being unsuitable company for a queen, and then later, in a drunken fit, tried to strike him. Perhaps the duke was not in attendance; he had heard Addington was ill. "Yes, certainly," was all he said aloud.

"This time, no one shall be able to object. We shall dance all night," Clarisse said fervidly, "or at least until my shoes start to pinch my feet."

_Yes, the underling has certainly come up in the world._ He glanced about, hoping he would not see Morley Addington. Instead, he saw a short, squat man approaching.

"Ah, good evening, Your Majesty," Baron von Troken said silkily, giving her a stiff bow. At his side, the baroness smirked at the couple over her prominent nose. Clarisse greeted them in return before turning away to speak with someone else. The baron faced Joseph. "An exciting evening, without a doubt. It is your first occasion in Continental society, is it not?"

"Good evening," Joseph replied, as both a greeting and dismissal.

"I would not worry," the baron continued quickly, before Joseph could move away. "I'm sure everyone will understand and be tolerant if you blunder tonight. You've not the experience of someone born of the upper classes."

"From what I've seen, Baron," Joseph replied, "Courtesy and intelligence are not a matter of birth. Excuse me."

The baroness sniffed and took another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, while the baron chuckled as Joseph moved to Clarisse's side.

"What did the baron want?" Clarisse asked, casting a distasteful glance toward the odd pair.

"The baron was just giving me a word of encouragement," Joseph replied. Her eyebrow went up in disbelief. "My dear, would you honor me with a dance?" he quickly continued. No one was going to spoil the evening, not when his wife was the most beautiful woman there.

"I would _very_ much like to dance with you," she answered, her smile warm as he led her to the middle of the room just as another piece began. "I will never forget that afternoon we danced in San Francisco."

"Nor will I." He took her in his arms and they began to move slowly to the music. She lay her cheek against his and let him guide her about the floor.

"I have been thinking of the first time we met," she said softly. "I believe you helped me with a…an electronic device- with the battery, and we talked."

"I remember," he replied. "We were in the room overlooking your garden."

"You complimented my roses, and I was so pleased."

He pulled her a bit closer. "I have a confession to make, my dear."

"You didn't like my roses, but were afraid to say as much to the queen?" she asking teasingly, snuggling closer. She was feeling rather daring, even if they were in public.

He smiled and shook his head. "Actually, I thought you were the landscape designer. I…if the king had not come in when he did…I was just about to ask you to dinner."

His shoulder was very comfortable. "Why to dinner?" she murmured.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Because, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever met and I…" His voice trailed off. After a moment, she leaned away from him slightly to see his face, her lips parted in surprise. "You were the only reason I stayed, my dear." The corner of his mouth went up in a wry smile. "Imagine my disappointment to discover you were married."

"Oh, really, Joseph," Clarisse replied, wondering if he was teasing her. Could he have loved her since that day? Surely not. She lay her head back on his shoulder, their bodies barely moving in time to the music. In the midst of nearly two thousand people, they danced, holding each other, with no thoughts of anyone else.

Finding her friends in the crowd was not difficult. Gustav's booming laugh carried far despite the hubbub of voices and music. For the next thirty minutes they passed the time chatting, since she and Helena had not seen each other since the wedding and had a great deal to catch up on. Meanwhile, several tables away, the three men were discussing the recent football playoffs, when a man joined them.

"Mr….ah- I'm afraid I've forgotten your name," Stefan apologized, covering his embarrassment as best as he could.

"John Masters- we met at the wine and spirits conference last year in Rome."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Masters. I do hope you are enjoying the evening. Pleasure to see you again," Stefan agreed, still not having a clue to the man's identity. There was an awkward silence as the man did not leave but smiled broadly, glancing between the others. Stefan gestured to his friends. "May I introduce King Gustav of Cerneland-" the two men exchanged greetings "-and Mr. Joseph-"

"Hey! You're Queen Clarisse's husband, aren't you! Saw your picture in Rumor magazine. Nice to meet you, Renaldi," the man broke in. Gustav choked, his drink going the wrong way.

"Mr. Joseph _Coraza_," Stefan hurriedly explained, aghast at the mistake.

"Oh, that's right. What a story- the guard who married the queen- sort of a Cinderella story in reverse, eh?" the man exclaimed, with a laugh. "Way to go, old man. Nice to meet you. Guess you're living the good life now!"

"A pleasure," Joseph returned dryly. Stefan and Gustav, recovered but still red-faced, gave the man a cold stare, and Masters quickly left.

"Joseph, I apologize," Stefan declared earnestly, glancing over his shoulder at the man's retreating back. "I can't imagine why he-"

Joseph held up a hand in dismissal. "It's nothing. Don't give it another thought."

"What a disrespectful blighter!" Gustav huffed, his mustache puffing with each word. "That son of a-"

"Is something wrong?" Clarisse asked, coming up behind them. Gustav looked as if he were about to pop and Stefan, usually calm and in control, appeared ruffled.

"Not at all, my dear. Just discussing last night's game." Joseph took her hand in his and forced himself to smile.

She shook her head. "It must have been quite a match," she replied looking at Gustav, who still appeared as if he could wring someone's neck.

"Yes, it was. If you would excuse us, gentlemen, I should like to dance with my wife, again," Joseph said smoothly, nodding to the others as he led Clarisse away.

Gustav let out his breath in a rush the moment they were out of earshot. "Who was that bastard?"

Stefan shrugged. "I can't recall." He looked about the crowded room, and realized that each year he knew fewer and fewer of the people attending. It had come down to simply who had the money for a ticket. "There are far too many people that are here just to gawk," he added.

"They often are at these large events," Gustav concurred. Calmer, he ran a hand over his beard. "I feared Joseph might meet up with curiosity-seekers and rudeness tonight. Thank goodness the paparazzi were kept out. He handled it well, though." He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Is Morley Addington in attendance?"

Stefan gestured to a passing waiter to take his empty glass. He puckered his lips slightly in distaste. "Yes, he is." Both men grunted in disgust.

When Joseph and Clarisse returned from their dance, Gustav bowed as low as his belly would allow. "Sir," he began, addressing Joseph, "might I dance with your beautiful bride?"

"Of course," Joseph agreed quickly with a smile, giving the king a small bow in return. He presented Clarisse's hand to Gustav, who tucked it in the crook of his arm, and then patted it as he led her away.

Stefan and Helene followed them to the dance floor, leaving Joseph alone for the first time that night. He let out his breath in a rush and looked around. Shades moved to his side immediately. "Do you need something, sir?" the younger man asked solicitously. Joseph shook his head.

"No, just catching my breath, but thank you," he replied, smiling at the new Head of Royal Security's dedication to duty. "Your men are doing a fine job." Shades looked pleased and they chatted for a few minutes about the next day's schedule. Suddenly, Shades stepped away, looking over Joseph's shoulder.

Joseph turned to look and broke into a pleased smile. _"Ginny!"_

"Oh, really, Gustav," Clarisse laughed, as her fellow monarch twirled her around once, then twice, grateful that the waltz was coming to an end. Gustav was a _very_ enthusiastic dancer. Flushed from the spirited turn about the floor, Clarisse presented a pretty picture to the king. He kissed her gently and beamed.

"I am so very pleased for you, my sweet Clarisse," he said softly, leading her away. "Joseph is just the man for-" He stopped, staring through the throng of milling people waiting for the next dance to begin.

Puzzled, she followed his gaze and was just in time to see Joseph embrace a woman then take her hands in his, raising them to his lips. "Who is she?" Clarisse wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Gustav replied. Cerneland's king cleared his throat and stood as straight as possible while tugging at his tunic with his free hand. "Let's find out, shall we."

Clad in a shimmering black dress, the woman was stunningly beautiful. In her early fifties, Clarisse judged, she carried herself with confidence and grace. While not dripping with diamonds or other jewels, what few items she wore bespoke of wealth and excellent taste. Leaning close to hear, Joseph laughed as the woman placed her hand on his arm. Clarisse's chin went up and Gustav had to step lively to keep from being left behind. At her approach, Joseph and the woman turned, still smiling. Clarisse's eyebrow rose.

"Ah, my dear," he said, moving to take her hand. "I'd like to introduce my friend, Lady Genevieve Monts. Ginny, my wife, Queen Clarisse."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty," Ginny said. "Please accept my best wishes upon your marriage." She smiled at Joseph. "And, of course, my congratulations to you, Joseph."

"Thank you," Clarisse replied, hoping she sounded civil. Joseph had certainly never mentioned _her_! Beside Clarisse, Gustav cleared his throat loudly.

"And, may I introduce His Majesty, King Gustav of Cerneland," Joseph continued, barely getting the words out before the larger man stepped forward.

"Lady Monts, it is indeed an honor to make your acquaintance." Gustav took the hand she offered and lifted it to his lips, and then hung on to it for as long as good manners would allow and then some.

"I am pleased to meet you," she replied. "And, do call me Ginny," she added, looking to both Gustav and Clarisse.

"What brings you here?" Gustav asked, reluctantly letting go of her hand.

"The Knolling Foundation here in Vienna was a favorite of mine and my late husband's," Ginny explained. Cerneland's king took a deep breath, sucking in his ample midriff as much as he could.

"Your late husband must have been a true humanitarian," Gustav remarked, unobtrusively giving his jacket a tug to smooth the wrinkles over his belly. "Will you staying in Vienna long?"

"Yes, for two days."

Gustav nearly rubbed his hands together in delight. "Splendid!" He beamed at Joseph and Clarisse. "You must dine with us tomorrow- if you are free, that is," he said, directing the inquiry to Ginny. She glanced to Joseph and Clarisse.

"If you have no other plans, that would be wonderful," Joseph agreed. Gustav, Joseph, and the beautiful Ginny Monts all turned expectantly to Clarisse.

"Wonderful," Clarisse echoed, schooling her expression into the brightest smile she could muster. "I look forward to it."

Several minutes later, after Ginny had agreed to dance with Gustav, Joseph nodded to Shades and led Clarisse around the edge of the floor towards the green carpeted stairs of the front hall. Seeing Ginny had been a pleasant surprise as they had not run into each other since two years after King Rupert's death, and had only spoken briefly on the phone a few times since. As if reading his thoughts, Clarisse spoke.

"Lady Monts is lovely."

"Yes, she is." He pushed open the heavy door that led to the open air loggia. "This is better," he said, breathing in the cool night air. Taking her hand, they moved toward the stone railing, Shades following several paces behind, trying to look inconspicuous in evening attire and sunglasses. Several ladies gave him second glance, and he stood a bit taller.

"How did you and she meet?" Clarisse asked, as if she were simply commenting on the pleasant weather. She told herself she wasn't jealous, merely interested in Joseph's friends, but she knew that was not the truth.

Joseph leaned against the balustrade and lifted her hand, covering it with his other. "Hmm? Oh, Ginny- it was at a function you and King Rupert attended several years ago. We met on a balcony during my break, I believe, and chatted for a while," he answered, rubbing his fingers lightly across hers.

"Oh, I see," she said. His fingers were warm, and she wondered if Ginny Monts thought the same. How close had they been? How did one ask one's husband about his past romantic interests? Or, was that even done? "Friends for several years then?"

He nodded, and released her hand to put his arm around her. "Off and on. She travels quite a bit," he said dismissing it as anything important. "Clarisse, I must make a quick trip to London next week. Would you be able to accompany me?"

"To London?" She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I have two meetings with Parliament and the ambassador from Italy is due to arrive on Thursday. Will you be back by then? We have a dinner that evening for him and his wife."

"I'll be home Wednesday evening," he answered. He did not mention Mia or ask what part she would be taking. The princess was more involved in the country's matters than before, but not to the degree he wished. He had, however, agreed to give Clarisse the six months, so he kept his thoughts on the matter to himself.

As they were making their way back to their friends, Joseph came upon two associates from his days with Interpol, and was clearly pleased. Clarisse insisted he stay to chat with the men, while she set off to return to their friends, Shades in her wake.

* * *

"Are Clarisse and Joseph back yet?" Gustav asked, setting his empty glass on the table.

Stefan shook his head. "Should be back soon." He tilted his head toward a group of women several tables away. " Since Helene's with friends from her days at school and will no doubt she will be busy for- oh, the devil, I say!"

Morley Addington, the Duke of Thornfield, was approaching them. "Well, well, well!" the duke said, wavering to a stop. "Where are the newlyweds?"

"Morley," King Gustav said, facing his subject. "My advice to you is to pour yourself into a taxi and leave."

Addington chuckled. "But, I'm not ready to, you see."

Stefan looked down his nose at the sallow-skinned man. "Sir, your presence is not wanted."

"But I was invited, jus' as you were!" Addington objected, opening his arms wide, wobbling to keep his balance. His drink splashing over the edge of the tumbler, Addington pointed a finger at Stefan. "You're jus' mad because your legal tactics didn't do you one damn bit of good." The duke grinned. "Got the news form my lawyers this afternoon."

Extremely annoyed, Stefan's eyebrow rose and he spoke through stiff lips. "You will not get away with flouting the laws of my country, Addington!"

"Nor mine, as well," Clarisse said, coming to stand beside her friends. "Between the three of us," she continued, glancing to Stefan and Gustav, "we will see that you are held responsible for every infraction your business interests have made in our countries. Your title and reputation will be worthless."

The duke's shoulders shook, his chuckles growing into outright laughter. "Be careful what you wish for, Your Majesty!" he answered, his amusement genuine.

Clarisse looked confused and Stefan addressed him again. "We are in agreement on this, Addington, and we shall not be put off any longer by your legal trickery, illegal payoffs, and influence buying. Charges have been drawn up that are watertight and will effectively break you. We intend to see you and your title ruined." He looked Clarisse then Gustav for confirmation. Clarisse nodded while Gustav looked at the floor. After a moment, he brought his gaze up to the duke.

"Leave, Morley," Gustav said, his words mild in comparison to those of his friends. "Do not trouble us more this evening." Stefan and Clarisse stared at Gustav. Laughing, Addington gave the three of them a quick bow, then turned and unhurriedly moved away. The two continued to stare at Cerneland's king. Finally, Gustav spoke. "I have been informed the man is ill."

"Are you making excuses for Addington, Gustav?" Clarisse asked incredulously.

"No, not at all." Gustav chewed at his mustache and crossed his arms. "I just meant that we might reconsider some of our legal strategy, perhaps drop-"

"Absolutely not!" Clarisse nearly shouted. She lowered her voice when several people nearby turned to see. "We will go forward with this suit just as we planned." Again, Gustav looked away, avoiding their eyes. "Are you not going to support us in this?" Clarisse asked pointedly.

"I say, you aren't backing out, are you?" Stefan asked, giving his lifelong friend a quizzical look. Cerneland's king sighed.

"The situation is more complicated than it appears," Gustav began, lifting his hands. "I believe it might be wise to rethink certain moves."

Stunned, Clarisse and Stefan stared at him. "You can not be serious," Clarisse said, aghast at her friend's change of opinion. She took a breath in an effort to calm herself. "I cannot imagine what it could be, Gustav, but I can only suppose you have a extremely good reason for backing out of our agreement."

Gustav looked as if someone had hit him. "Clarisse, I am not backing out. I…I just feel that we should wait-"

"Wait?" Stefan hissed angrily. Clarisse had never seen her friend so upset. "We have been fighting Addington for _years_," Stefan continued, "and you want us to drop everything? This is preposterous! Whatever reasons could you possibly have for asking this of us?"

Visibly torn, Gustav started to answer then stopped. "There _are_ reasons…"

"I would certainly like to hear them," Clarisse challenged. When Gustav did not answer, she continued. "What points of our agreement are you reconsidering? His fraudulent business practices? His avoidance of taxes?"

"Are you going to refuse our suggestion to issue an end to the patent of his lineage?" Stefan asked, peering closely at his best friend with something close to distaste. "That is the least you can do!"

Gustav's head came up quickly. "I don't think that move is wise."

"You have the power to do so," Stefan shot back. "Why not use it?"

"We do not," Clarisse said, trying hard to keep her voice calm and level, "understand this change of yours, at all, Gustav. In the past, we have been in complete agreement concerning our goals, but now you say we should reconsider." She clasped her hands together in front of her. "Will your country suffer an severe economic effect because of these proceedings?"

He shook his head. "No, much of his business ties are outside Cerneland."

Stefan began to speak but stopped, clearly angry at his friend. Clarisse pressed her lips together, choosing her words carefully. "Gustav, are you somehow…involved in Morley Addington's business dealings?" That was the only reason she could determine for her friend's reluctance to follow through. Perhaps he had only just found out his personal finances were closely tied to those of the Duke of Thornfield.

Gustav sighed. "No, my personal investments are not associated with Morley's dealings." He turned to her, gesturing with his hands. "Clarisse, I cannot go into my reasons, however, I must ask you to trust me."

Clarisse traded glances with Stefan, who shook his head a fraction. "I fear we cannot drop our suits or back away. We will proceed without you, if necessary," she declared. There was a note of regret in her voice. Gustav had been her friend since before she had wed Rupert.

An uneasy silence lay between the three. Finally, Gustav cleared his throat. "I understand. I will continue to participate in the legal action against Morely Addington, as we discussed," he answered slowly, "However, I will not terminate the title patent of the Duke of Thornfield." There was real pain in his voice; he knew he had disappointed his closest friends.

Somewhat mollified, Clarisse let her hands fall to her sides. "Thank you, Gustav," she replied stiffly. Stefan nodded in agreement. Uncomfortable with what had just happened, both kept their gaze away from him, Clarisse looking out over the crowd, Stefan inspecting his sleeve for lint.

"Clarisse, I assume we will be meeting for dinner tomorrow as planned," Gustav offered quietly, trying to put the argument aside and reclaim the harmony they had known prior.

"Yes, of course," Clarisse answered quickly, forcing a smile. "Joseph and I are looking forward to it."

* * *

Across the table, Ginny Monts took a sip of her wine, which was several shades lighter than the striking claret-colored, off the shoulder gown she wore. She was, Clarisse thought for the umpteenth time, one of the most beautiful women she had ever met. Clarisse slipped her hand up to tug discreetly at her own shoulder strap, which was again in danger of falling down.

While there was still a stiffness between the two friends at dinner the following evening, it seemed to Clarisse that Gustav made a great effort to be charming and keep their dinner guest occupied. As he leaned closer to Ginny Monts to finish the story he was telling, Clarisse had to smile. Gustav had probably noticed that she was feeling a little intimidated by beautiful, younger woman, and because of his efforts throughout dinner, Joseph had had little time to speak with Ginny.

The change in Gustav's attitude concerning Morley Addington still rankled her. Whatever his reason, and Clarisse could not imagine what it could possibly be, it would make no difference to her- _none_. She would pursue Addington and see that he was effectively ruined. It made her angry just to think of the duke.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Joseph whispered, lifting his water glass. "You were frowning as if ready to take on all comers." He took a swallow and set it back down, watching her.

Immediately, Clarisse schooled her features into a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking of my meeting tomorrow morning with the tourist board."

"Is the problem with the agreement that large?" he asked. Across the table, Gustav chuckled and Ginny covered her mouth with her napkin, obviously laughing. Gustav leaned closer to speak again and a moment later they both laughed aloud.

"No, not exactly. Just a detail I'm not sure of," she answered, hoping her excuse sounded plausible. Gustav, in her opinion, although doing a fine job of keeping Ginny amused and away from Joseph, was going above and beyond the call of duty. The pair saw Clarisse and Joseph looking at them, and tried to quiet down. Gustav cleared his throat, but ended up chuckling again.

"Well, I must say this has been a wonderful dinner…and the company even better." He gave Ginny a grin, and she accepted his compliment with a slight incline of her head. "I hope the two of you don't mind, but Gin- er, Miss Monts and I are going to take a stroll on the veranda."

"Not at all," Joseph said, catching Ginny's eye and lifting his eyebrow a fraction. Hers rose in answer, and they both smiled as a message passed between them. The interchange was not lost on Clarisse.

"Yes, please do show Miss Monts the gardens, Gustav. It is a lovely night," she added. She stood and the men immediately came to their feet. Gustav assisted Ginny with her chair and her black, gossamer-thin wrap, and then gallantly offered her his arm.

"Queen Clarisse, it has been lovely to have met you," Ginny said, slipping her hand around Gustav's arm.

"I'm so glad we met," Clarisse returned politely. Ginny looked to Joseph.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you next week in London," she said brightly. Clarisse looked sharply at her husband, who nodded.

"Perhaps we can meet for drinks before the dinner," he answered. Then, with his guard keeping a respectful distance, a beaming Gustav bore Ginny Monts away. Joseph slipped Clarisse's Genovian lace shawl about her shoulders.

"You'll be seeing Miss Monts while in London?" Clarisse asked, as he led her from the hotel's private dining room. The headwaiter and his staff bowed as they left, and she thanked them with a few words as she passed.

"Yes, she will most likely be there." He took her hand in his, and then lifted it, kissing her fingers as they came to a huge fountain in the foyer.

Totally confused, Clarisse stopped. Why would he make a date with another woman? Her hand still in his, Joseph turned back to see why. "I don't understand."

"Understand what, my dear?" He took a step closer to her in order to hear over the splash of the water.

"Why will you be seeing her?" she asked, immediately wishing she had phrased her roundabout accusation better. She tried again, without much improvement. "Does Miss Monts work there?"

Joseph laughed. "Ginny doesn't 'work,' per se. She travels on behalf of several philanthropic organizations she and her husband contributed to," he explained. That didn't seem to satisfy her, and he suddenly realized what was bothering her. He stepped closer and leaned so close she could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. "My dear, are you jealous?" he asked in amusement.

"Certainly not!" she declared too loudly. He smiled, making her protest even further. "I only meant that if you and Miss Monts were…were meeting in London, then it had to be for…" She searched for the right words, then, with her chin up, she found them. "For a good reason!"

Joseph laughed softly, and placed his hand under her chin. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her. Lifting his lips from hers just barely, he whispered, "My sweet Clarisse, I'm a consultant for the company Ginny's brother owns." He kissed her again, and then stepped back. Lips apart and eyes half closed, Clarisse gazed at him for a long moment before being able to pull herself together. She glanced around to see if any other guests had been watching and was relieved to find they were alone.

"I knew it was something along those lines, of course," she replied primly, trying to salvage some dignity. He laughed again and put his arm around her. Then, his lips next to her ear, he whispered a promise to her that made her blush. Clarisse grabbed him by his arm and led him toward the elevators, Hans and Mel hurrying to keep up.

* * *

As the lights dimmed, Shades settled back in the seat. For last minute tickets, they were not bad seats, he mused, wondering if Charlotte had used her position with the queen to get them. Beside him, she settled into her seat, and there was just enough illumination to see the expectant smile on her face. His one night off and it was wasted at a concert. Ah, well, he thought, clapping dutifully as the conductor made his entrance, if this made Charlotte happy, then it was a small sacrifice to make.

Over the years, he had attended innumerable concerts and other cultural events as part of the royal family's security contingent. He knew one or two of the agents actually enjoyed those assignments, but he was not one of them. The applause died, and the conductor raised his wand then brought it down. Music filled the hall.

Getting the evening off had not been very difficult. The royal couple was having dinner at the hotel, in a private dining room, so Mel and Hans would be able to handle it without difficulty. Still, he had consulted Joseph. The older man had readily agreed, telling him to take the entire evening.

He had not meant to get involved in a discussion about Charlotte with his former boss, but the conversation had turned in her direction anyway. When he told Joseph he was certain Charlotte would stick around Pyrus as part of the diplomatic corps and they would continue seeing each other, Joseph had merely shook his head slowly, and told him to never second guess a woman.

So, what was wrong with that? Shades wondered. He knew for a fact the job with the diplomatic organization had been offered, and that it was Charlotte's area of study. Why wouldn't she take it? She would not want to move away from him.

He recognized the waltz the orchestra was playing- The Blue Danube. He slid further down in his seat, and leaned an elbow on the armrest, propping up his head with his fist. Slowly, his eyes closed. A swell of music brought them open again, and he fought a yawn.

He loved Charlotte. He admitted as much to himself, and he thought she must know that he did, after all this time. And, she loved him, of course. So, he was sure she understood that they would one day get married, even though they had not discussed it. With his new position keeping him even busier than before, he was in no hurry. One day, much later, would be soon enough to think of marriage.

His eyes closed again, and he shifted his right shoulder, getting more comfortable. Much better, he thought, as the music became softer and faded.

Was that a snore? Charlotte wondered. Frowning, she cast a sideways glance at the elderly man to her right, but found him wide awake. Pressing her lips together, she looked to her left. She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. The oaf was asleep!

Over the past few months, ever since the queen and Joseph had married, she and Shades had been dancing around the issue of their relationship, but never coming outright and discussing it. She knew he cared for her - even loved her, although he had never admitted to it. Not once had he intimated he wanted anything more than the way things were. He seemed perfectly happy just dating, and she was nearly certain he saw no one else; he did not have the time.

What did she want? Marriage? A family? Yes- all that, and more. And, more importantly, she did not want to have to wait until she was nearly old enough for retirement benefits to get it, either. She was already a few years past thirty, and she and Shades had known each other for years. She was ready to marry and start a family. The music came to an end, and the audience burst into applause. Beside her, Shades' head jerked up. The hall lights brightened, and he blinked.

"Is it over?" he asked hopefully, slowly sitting up straight.

"Oh, not at all," she replied sweetly, getting up to stretch her legs. "Just intermission. We have at least another hour and a quarter to go- longer if there are encores." Charlotte smiled as Shades groaned, coming to his feet to follow her.

* * *

Note: _OK, here we go. It's done and I'm going to be posting for the next few days. The last chapter will be posted on New Year's Eve since that is when it takes place. I'm trying to wrap all the loose ends up and answer any remaining questions. Hope you like it. If so, let me know. (-:  
_

_Shade's experience at the concert was from an evening I spent last winter with my older son at Madame Butterfly. The music was divine, the singers fabulous, the tension of the heartbreak unfolding before us was palpable, I was teary-eyed...and he fell asleep. How, sitting maybe 10 rows from the orchestra, he could possibly nod off, I do not know.  
_


	10. Chapter 10

_I don't own Princess Diaries...Disney/Buena Vista and Meg Cabot do. No infringement is intended and no profit is made...other than your kind reviews._

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* * *

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Chapter 10

Despite it being a beautiful afternoon at the end of October, the signs of a quickly approaching fall were everywhere. Clarisse stopped to examine several roses as they walked slowly down the garden path leading to their favorite place, the gazebo. Satisfied there were no aphids or other late arriving pests, she leaned closer to inhale the rose's scent.

"Remember, Joseph, how we used to walk in the evenings?" she asked, cutting a yellow stem with her clippers to take back to her office. The hothouse flowers were lovely, but she liked having one from her private garden on her desk. "I always looked forward to those walks, although I did not understand why you felt I needed a guard in my own garden."

"In all honesty, you didn't, my dear," he whispered conspiratorially, which caused Clarisse to look at him. "It was merely an excuse to spend time with you."

She laughed. He _was_ overly cautious where her safety was concerned, she knew. But, as for his making excuses to be with her… "Well, I'm certainly glad you were so efficient."

Maurice barked at several birds then bounded after them, taking a short cut through her shrubbery. Joseph called to him and the dog stopped immediately and came loping back along the pathway, pleased with of his defense of his territory.

"You have a way with dogs," she commented. Above them, a flock of small birds flew by, heading south for the coming colder weather.

"Just the voice of authority," he corrected her, glancing up to see what she was looking at. Winter would be here soon, the birds reminded him; not the best time to be moving into a palace located in the northernmost area of Genovia, even if it was in the lower elevations of the Alps. Joseph considered bringing up the subject of Stone Manor again, but before he could, Clarisse continued.

"Speaking of which, I've penciled you in for a conference in Italy on border security next month. Alfonse asked if you would be available, and I said you would be. It's two days- Tuesday and Wednesday." She brushed several leaves from Maurice's coat. "Also, next Friday morning, before we leave for Paris, I need you to attend the Disaster Contingencies Committee meeting. That program is long overdue for updating."

"I have a meeting next Thursday morning in Rotterdam," he stated, his voice not revealing his feelings. She had made commitments for him on other occasions without checking with him first. "Our client wishes to consult Chesterson and me on a security system for his dockyards," he explained. It was not only a very lucrative consultation, but an interesting one as well, being different from his usual area of work.

"I didn't know," she said, rubbing Maurice's head idly. She made no further comment releasing him from her request.

And, you did not ask, Joseph thought. He answered, "I will try to make it."

Clarisse smiled. "Very good."

* * *

"I made the arrangements with the hotel, Ma'am and your appointments are confirmed for the trip tomorrow," Charlotte said, handing the queen a revised schedule of her trip to France.

"Thank you, Charlotte. Spending two extra days in Paris should work out very well for dress fittings, and I'm sure Joseph won't mind." Clarisse glanced over the paper and nodded her approval. "I'm looking forward to this trip- it has been far too long since the last time I spent time shopping, and it is already November. The new gowns we ordered will be perfect for the holiday season's events," she added. "It will be a busy trip."

Charlotte agreed and made a note on her pad. There was very little free time in the schedule since the queen, being now married, had accepted invitations to several events she had in the past declined. It seemed Queen Clarisse was going to enjoy showing off her new husband. The younger women smiled. "Yes, it will."

"Oh, and would you ask both of my lady's maids to accompany me this time? They can deal with the gowns and outfits. I'll need gloves and shoes, too, so let's work that into the schedule, also," she mused. She looked up from her diary. "I think that about does it." Closing her diary, Clarisse added, "Please notify me fifteen minutes before Prime Minister Motaz is scheduled to arrive. Also, remind Mrs. Cates he will be bringing several of his staff with him, and we'd like refreshments in the yellow room."

Gathering her folders, she moved to leave then paused in the doorway. "I wonder if I should obtain a valet for Joseph," Clarisse said slowly.

Charlotte looked up from her notepad to the queen. "Has Joseph mentioned needing a valet, ma'am?"

Clarisse tapped her pen against her diary, thinking. "He's never mentioned wanting one- he probably wouldn't think of it. Nonetheless, since he is now the prince consort, having a personal aide might be very convenient for him," she thought aloud. She looked at her own assistant. "I know Stefan and Gustav always travel with several aides, one of whom manages his garments, appointments, and runs small errands."

Charlotte did not comment. She knew Queen Clarisse was concerned that Joseph would be accepted into the upper echelons of society, but she did not think that having a personal servant would appeal to Joseph, even if the servant were labeled as an aide. And, she could not help but assume Joseph would again object to being called a prince of any sort. He had adamantly refused to be announced as such, making her believe he would not accept such an appellation in any circumstances.

She glanced at her watch. "I must go over those plans before Sebastian arrives," she thought aloud, leaving to return to her own office.

"Should I remind Princess Mia of the meeting?" Charlotte asked. The queen stopped in the hallway and turned back.

"I don't think it's necessary. She's out riding with her friend Lily. But, let's give her a copy of the proceedings and I can go over it with her later," Clarisse replied. She touched her pen to her lips thoughtfully before adding, "Charlotte, ask Shades to find a valet for Joseph. He has to approve him through security, so it would be more efficient if he handles it."

"I will, Your Majesty." Charlotte said, scribbling rapidly, trying to imagine just how Shades was going to react to this new request.

* * *

"She wants to me get him _what_?"

"A valet," Charlotte repeated, keeping her voice low despite the fact they were alone in her office. In the palace, she had learned, ears were everywhere. "She thinks he needs one. Perhaps 'aide' would be a better choice of words."

"Why?" Shades asked, his expression showing what he thought of the idea. He leaned forward and stared intently at her.

"Because," Charlotte explained slowly, hoping it would make more sense if she did, "he is now Prince Joseph and she thinks he needs someone to…help him." Somehow, it did not sound any more convincing than before.

"No, I mean why is _she_ asking for a valet? If Joseph wants one, he'll get his own," Shades replied, shaking his head. "And, you know what Joseph thinks of being called a prince," he added, snorting in amusement.

Helplessly, Charlotte gestured with her hands. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Queen Clarisse says she wants Joseph to have a valet, but you say you won't get him one," she exclaimed, her voice rising to a squeak.

"Hold on, don't get upset," he replied. Pursing his lips, Shades thought for a moment before lacing his fingers together behind his head and leaning back in the chair, the picture of a man who had a plan. "Didn't say I wouldn't get him one," he said with a smile. Charlotte looked at him, her eyes narrowing.

"You are planning something- do I want to know about it?" she asked, pretty sure of the answer.

Abruptly, Shades got up and came to stand beside her. He dropped a kiss on her lips then chucked her under her chin. "Don't you worry about a thing, Miss Kutaway," he declared. "I've got it all under control. Joseph will get his valet."

As she watched him leave her office, Charlotte let her breath out in a rush, certain she did not want to know.

* * *

"Lionel!" Shades yelled, as the door to the security center slammed shut behind him. "Where's that boy?" he muttered, sitting down behind a computer and bringing up the next month's schedule.

"Washing the cars," Anton answered. "He ticked off Hans again."

Shades grunted. Lionel was not going to back to school until the next semester, too long a wait, as far as he was concerned. "Get him in here. I got a job for him."

Fifteen minutes later, a soaking wet Lionel stood in Shade's small office, his shoes squishing as he shifted his weight from one big foot to the other. "Uh, you wanted me for something?" he asked, scratching his neck where water trickled down from his unruly long hair.

"Yeah. Got a special assignment for you," Shades replied, looking the slouching young man over with disapproval.

"Hot damn!" Lionel yelled, slapping his hands together. He went to sit down on Shade's cot, ready for a prolonged top secret briefing, but Shades yelled just before Lionel's wet behind touched down.

"Get off that! You're soaking wet."

"Sorry," Lionel said, resuming his stooped posture, looming over the seated Shades. _Squish, squish, squish_. Lionel nearly hopped from one foot to the other in excitement.

"This is what I want you to do," Shades began, trying to ignore the water dripping onto his floor. "You're gonna work for Mr. Coraza."

Lionel's eyes widened and Shades thought the boy was going to swoon. "Do I get to carry an automatic?" Lionel whispered hopefully.

"No."

"A handgun?'

"No."

"Handcuffs?"

"No."

"Do I get to turn my mike on?"

"No. You're gonna be his valet."

"Oh." Lionel thought hard, and Shades could have sworn he heard the sound of rusty gears turning. "What's a valet?"

"A special helper- sort of."

"Mr. Coraza's own special agent!" The boy's face brightened. "Wow!"

"Special_ helper_. On this trip, you're gonna make sure his clothes are all laid out for him to wear, his shoes are polished, the morning paper's waiting for him, get him water and coffee- basically make sure he's comfortable and wants for nothing."

"Do I get to ride in the back seat of the limo with him and the queen?" Lionel asked optimistically.

"No."

"Taste his food before he gets it?"

"Get out of here!" Shades yelled, waving the kid away impatiently. He had done as the queen requested, by way of Charlotte, so everyone would be satisfied…except Joseph. Shades grinned. He gave Lionel less than ten minutes as valet to the prince consort of Genovia.

* * *

"I've got that, sir," Lionel said, taking Joseph's briefcase from his hand. Joseph watched as the boy trotted over to the limo and set it in the back seat. Lionel had been buzzing about all day like a bothersome gnat. Clarisse took Joseph's arm and they descended the stairs under the west wing portico. Seeing her inside, he shut the car door himself, and then went to the other side of the vehicle. Waiting for him, Lionel was bouncing on his toes, holding the door open. Joseph started to get in then stopped. His side of the backseat was filled with stuff.

Lionel drew himself up as stiff as possible. "Sir, there's three newspapers for you, a thermos of coffee, 2 liters of water, a book of crosswords for the plane trip, a bag of gummy bears- the sour type 'cause they're best, a tube of hand cleaner, and a supersized bag of sunflower seeds with an empty sack to spit the shells in, sir. And, if you will take your shoes off after you get in, I'll clean them on the drive over and get them back to you when we reach the airport, sir." Lionel beamed with immense pride. "I'm your new valet, sir."

Wordlessly, Joseph stared at him then shifted his gaze across the roof of the car to where Shades stood, who in turn nodded to Mel at the driver's door. Mel stepped closer.

"Excuse me, sir," he said to Joseph. Reaching past him, Mel quickly tossed all the junk in the plastic shopping bag that had been intended for the sunflower hulls- keeping the sour gummy bears for himself, and then shoved the bag into Lionel's arms. "Get into the other car," Mel growled under his breath to Lionel as Joseph joined Clarisse in the backseat.

Snapping his seat belt, Shades signaled to Mel to go. Shades crossed his arms and smiled to himself as the limo pulled away. Lionel had lasted exactly two minutes as a valet.

* * *

After a discreet knock, Shades entered the sitting room of the Paris hotel suite. Phone to his ear, Joseph looked up from the notes he was taking and gave Shades a short nod of acknowledgement; it was time to meet Clarisse. Within fifteen minutes, he had concluded his business with Chesterson and was in the day car with Shades. "Where is she?" he asked, looking over at the younger man as Shades maneuvered the car into traffic. When without Clarisse and with only one agent, he rode in front.

"A shop near the Champs Elysees," Shades replied. In little over thirty minutes, they pulled up on a side street, just off the busy fashion district. Shades put the car in park. "It's the…" He squinted at the sign and decided not to hazard a guess at the pronunciation. "The one with the pink, frilly dress in the window."

Letting his breath out slowly, Joseph undid his seatbelt, hoping Clarisse wasn't purchasing anything like the dress in the window. "I'd better get this over with," he mumbled.

Inside the shop, Mel and Hans sat in a far corner, unobtrusively watching everyone entering and leaving. Joseph acknowledged them with a nod then was shown to a large room with a deeply upholstered chair and loveseat. Treating him like royalty, a young woman brought Joseph a tray of coffee and assorted biscuits, offered several newspapers, and asked twice if he were comfortable. Both times, he assured her he was, and waited. Apparently, his wife was somewhere behind the curtains covering the far wall. He could hear muffled voices from that direction but nothing distinct, so after several minutes and no sign of Clarisse, he decided if might be a long wait. Joseph reached for the coffee and the London Times.

Behind him, in the main shop, the bell above the door jangled as another customer entered. He heard the proprietress's voice, and the tap, tap, tap of a lady's heels coming nearer.

"Darling! Whatever are you doing in here?"

The steaming cup stopped halfway to his lips and Joseph came to his feet. "Micha!" he exclaimed. He quickly set the cup down and went to her. The two old friends were embracing each other when the champagne-colored drapes parted and Clarisse emerged, a vision is royal blue. Her smile faded when she saw the two of them.

"Clarisse, my dear!" Joseph said softly, turning away from Micha, who stood watching her friend with a knowing smile, enjoying Joseph's reaction to his beautiful wife.

Bringing a smile to her face, Clarisse stepped forward. The woman beside Joseph was most elegant, and when the she stepped away from Joseph, her movements were fluidly graceful. The simple black dress the woman wore fit her slim figure perfectly. Suddenly, Clarisse realized it was the same woman she had seen dancing with Joseph in the garden, the night of the engagement ball a few weeks past.

Joseph was _her_ husband, she reminded herself, and it was silly to be jealous or even think of him with someone else. He had, of course, been acquainted with women in his past- Ginny Monts, for example. But, Clarisse wondered, why did they keep running into them everywhere they went.

"Do you like it?" she asked him, lifting her chin.

Joseph's gaze swept her from head to toe. With an A-line skirt, it was of silk satin from the bust line down, including her arms. Above, sheer netting of the same color covered her shoulders. Delicate crystals glittered about the high neckline and wrists and were scattered across the netting. He was sure Clarisse had just the right tiara to wear with it, back at the palace; it was a gown fit for a queen.

"Beautiful," he answered simply, coming to take her hands. "Beautiful," he repeated, his voice lower. He lifted her hands to his lips.

Micha smiled. "Madame, it is absolutely lovely," she agreed, moving a few steps closer to them.

Letting go of one of her hands, Joseph gestured with his other to Micha. "Clarisse, I'd like you to meet my dear friend of many years, Countess Micha DuMer."

"I am pleased to meet you, Countess," Clarisse replied.

The countess' smile was warm and genuine as she replied, "The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty. And, please call me Micha."

Clarisse nodded, however she did not return the favor of familiarity. Micha continued, remarking on the gown and its designer. When Joseph asked how she knew about the dress, she explained, "I am working with several young designers these days, including Adolpho."

Adolpho himself stepped forward, a bespectacled young man wearing torn jeans and a t-shirt, and began fussing over the dress and its fit. Joseph got out of the way, moving back to Micha's side.

Micha leaned close to him. "I am trying my best to get him out of those horrid jeans." At Joseph's raised eyebrow, she smiled. "I meant to dress better!" They both laughed. Across the room, Clarisse watched them.

Joseph invited Micha to join them for dinner that evening, and Clarisse was forced by good manners to agree and insist on it. Returning to the fitting area, she was not looking forward to the evening. Why were all of Joseph's ex-girlfriends always so beautiful?

As it turned out, Clarisse found the Countess DuMer to be a delightful woman, and it was no time before they were chatting about fashion and several mutual acquaintances, leaving Joseph out of the conversation altogether. He did not mind, though. He and Clarisse had few friends in common and he was pleased to find her enjoying Micha's company. He hoped she would have the opportunity to get to know the Helmars, as well.

This was what Clarisse should be doing, he thought, listening as the topic turned to the various philanthropic organizations they were both involved in. She should be free to pursue the activities she enjoyed best and not be tied to the palace and so many matters of state.

Although she was allowing Mia to handle more official business, Clarisse was still dealing with far too much of it. He would give her a bit more time, however if she did not make changes in the manner in which she was handling the transition, he would have to speak with her. It was unfair, as well as unhelpful, to Mia, at the very least.

Their visit to Paris had gone well, although they had little time to themselves and had a function to attend each night in the previous four days. He would have liked to have taken her out for dinner or some other activity, just the two of them, but she had not scheduled any free time. The only reason they had this night open was last minute change in plans. Frustrated, Joseph took another sip of his drink.

In all truthfulness, he was not entirely pleased with the way their marriage had begun. It seemed Clarisse was not making any effort to make changes in her ways on behalf of their new relationship. Physically, she was affectionate, of course, and he was certain she loved him, but it was if she still thought of her role in their relationship the way it was with her late husband. She had repeatedly planned appointments and meetings for him without his approval and gave precedence to any state function over his own schedule, despite Mia being capable of taking her place. Time together away from the palace occurred only when he took the initiative to plan it and work out the logistics.

She insisted they live in the North Palace, and had already agreed to participate in quite a few conferences and talks in the coming spring and summer as an official representative of Genovia. With Mia taking over as queen, he felt it was inappropriate for Clarisse to do so unless Mia specifically requested it. But, Mia could not, or would not, disagree with her grandmother. He drained the last of his drink, and then waved away the waiter's offer of another one. How was he going to help Clarisse find a life beyond the palace if she never left it?

The two women's laughter brought him back from his thoughts, and he found them both looking at him. Were they comparing notes, he wondered. He felt himself coloring, which made the two women giggle even more.

"Ladies," he said, coming to his feet, "It is time to leave."

* * *

The countryside in early November was breathtakingly beautiful. Taking a day off, she had agreed to his insisting they take a drive in the foothills of the Granite Mountains. He had convinced her they needed a few hours to themselves, and she had to admit he had been right.

During the past few months since their impromptu walk up the aisle, they had had precious little time to themselves outside the palace apartment. There was just so much still to be done! So many unfinished plans, so many projects she wanted to see begun before she turned the crown over to Amelia. There were far too many details that only she alone could see to.

She leaned her head back against the headrest and sighed. No, she would not dwell on her concerns and fears this afternoon; the time was for her and Joseph. The past three hours had been extremely relaxing, beginning with lunch at the small café beside an old mill with a still functioning waterwheel. Perhaps she should take more days off in the future. Focusing on the passing scenery, Clarisse relaxed her shoulders, sinking further into the plush leather seat. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Tired?" he asked, glancing away from the road to her. They were in his Mercedes with their security staff following behind. Joseph was firm that they be alone.

"No, just content," she replied, giving him a smile. "This is simply lovely."

Eyes on the road, he smiled in return. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. You needed to get away." He touched the volume control, and Vivaldi's Four Seasons became softer.

"Yes, I did," she agreed. The road curved sharply and as they rounded it, another breathtaking view lay before them.

Joseph took a deep breath. He had debated during the past week after their return from Paris over whether or not to bring up his concerns over Clarisse's work and their own relationship. That morning, she had informed him he was now on a committee to advise Parliament on security issues concerning Genovia's border and immigrations. The committee did not meet until two months after Mia assumed the throne, yet Clarisse had made the appointments; it should have been Mia's call…and Clarisse should have asked him first.

He was also concerned that she had decided to attend the trade talks in Zurich just before Christmas, despite her earlier plans to let Mia attend alone. In the past two weeks, she had increased the pace of her work instead of slowing down, and he could not help but wonder why. To his knowledge, there were no pressing matters warranting the change.

"My dear, I'm concerned that you are working too hard," he began, trying to choose his words carefully.

"Joseph, must we discuss this again?" she answered, closing her eyes briefly.

He negotiated another curve leading to a small bridge. Under them, the steel plates rumbled. "This would be an ideal time to turn more duties over Mia- while you are still at the palace."

"That won't be a problem. I've decided that our moving should wait until spring," she replied. She quickly continued, cutting off his protests. "That way, I will be there at her side, to help her with the transition."

"Clarisse, these six months were supposed to be for-"

"No! I have giving this a great deal of thought, and I feel it is necessary," she cut in, using the tone of voice she reserved for errant Parliament members. When he did not answer, but kept staring straight ahead, the muscle in his jaw tight, she continued. "I _will_ be stepping down as planned at the end of the year, of course."

"Of course," he agreed. There was silence between them for several minutes, as the car swept past stands of brightly colored maples and birches, their colors still brilliant against the blue of the sky.

"I have so much to do," she said defensively. "So many people depend on me to make sure the country follows the best course."

"I understand your responsibilities more than you think, my dear," he replied, gripping the steering wheel harder. "I have been at your side these last seven years."

"The welfare on the people, the future path of our country is at stake," she said, lifting one elegant hand. "You don't know what it is like having the weight of one's country on one's shoulders. It is a responsibility like none other and a queen has to think of much more than simply herself. You are not a royal, Joseph, and _cannot possibly_ understand," she concluded dismissively with a wave of her hand.

"I'm very well aware that we come from different worlds, Clarisse," he answered tightly, unable to stop his anger from rising. Her words had hurt, even though he knew he should not have taken offense. "We might be worlds apart socially, but I assure you I know about responsibility."

"I didn't mean it that way, Joseph. I only want to do what is best for the country and for us- for you!"

He couldn't help himself. "My dear, you do not need to make decisions for me! You have volunteered me for committees and meetings, decided where we shall live-"

Clarisse stared out the window. "I wasn't aware that you had no desire to serve Genovia-"

"Damn it, Clarisse, you know that's not true! I've spent years serving this country and will continue to in any way I am needed- when asked. But, that's not the issue."

"I fail to see what is," she replied stiffly.

Joseph breathed deeply and let his breath out very slowly; this had gotten out of hand. "My dear, I am concerned that you are not allowing Mia to share enough responsibilities. How else is she going to be ready come January?" he answered as calmly as possible.

She did not answer for a long moment. Finally, he glanced at her when they came to a relatively straight stretch of road. "Clarisse, had Philip lived," he began, regretting the look of pain his words caused, but pressing on with his point. "If he had lived, would you have insisted on remaining queen for six months, and then staying at his side for several more?"

"No, of course not. Philip was…was to have returned in late November and would have assumed the throne by the end of the year, at the very latest," she replied.

Joseph nodded. "You've spent the past several years training Mia to be queen."

"Yes, I have. She needed to become familiar with her future duties," Clarisse agreed.

"Did you do the same for Philip?" he asked quietly.

She was silent for a long moment. "It is an entirely different situation, Joseph. Philippe grew up knowing he would one day take the crown, while Mia knew nothing of her heritage until she was fifteen," Clarisse said impatiently, her words forceful. "She was hardly prepared from birth for such an office, and you cannot expect-"

"I see your point, my dear," he interrupted mildly, regretting having brought up the subject at all. Clearly, she did not want to hear his observations, and his opinion would not sway her. He wanted Clarisse to relax. "I did not mean to upset you. I'm only concerned that you might be working too hard because you fear overloading Mia."

"I have has been rather busy, and perhaps Mia could take on more duties," she conceded. She looked at her hands, clenched in her lap. "I don't mean to sound angry. It's just that I…" She sighed, unable to say what was troubling her. After a moment, she looked at him. "Please know, Joseph, I do appreciate everything you do. You _have_ helped me- and Genovia- tremendously."

"I'm always willing to help. You only have to ask, my dear." He reached over and took her hand in his. He raised it to his lips. "I'm sure we'll work out what is best for all."

Clarisse nodded her agreement. "In time, Mia will make a wonderful queen."

"Of course, she will," he said, keeping her hand in his, letting it rest on his thigh. "She's the granddaughter of Clarisse Gerard."

"Clarisse Gerard Coraza," she corrected with a smile, giving his hand a squeeze. They fell into a companionable silence after that, enjoying each other's company and the glorious day.

Twenty minutes later, he casually remarked, "My dear, I'm going to stop just ahead to sign a document."

"I thought we agree to no business today," she said, closing her eyes. The warmth from the sun was making her drowsy as she pushed the earlier argument from her mind. "And you say I work too hard."

He slowed, taking a tight corner, before answering. "It's not work, per se. I need to sign a release for the option on a house," he explained, his voice without any emotion.

"That reminds me," she said, without opening her eyes. "We need to meet with the designers about the Summer Palace. It's getting rather late, but Roberto has assured me he can have workers begin renovations in January."

"They haven't started before now?" he asked. She had made the decision to live at the Summer Palace last spring- over six months ago. Lost in her own thoughts, she did not hear him.

"Perhaps we can plan a housewarming party for the end of April- or perhaps May. The flowers will be starting to bloom, and that's a lovely time of the year in the north country."

Joseph did not answer, and Clarisse took his silence as agreement.

Ten minutes later, he slowed the car as they approached the drive to Stone Manor. "This will not take long, my dear- just a few papers to deal with," he said, turning into the gravel drive. If Clarisse would not change her mind about living in the Summer Palace, then so be it. It was far better to focus on the future, than to regret what could have been, he had decided. He would make the best of it and be thankful they were together.

Above them, the trees were a canopy of gold and bronze as they made their way slowly down the long drive. Ahead, a wooden bridge crossed the shallow creek, swollen with recent rain. Clarisse lowered her window and gazed out at the meadow beyond the hedgerow. The far hills appeared to be ablaze with color. "It's beautiful here," she remarked.

"Yes, it is. There's over four thousand acres of hardwood and meadow," he said. The property next to Stone Manor had become available two months prior and he had expressed interest in it. Hollis, the agent, had quietly asked the property's owner to wait for Joseph's decision. He rounded the last curve. "There's the house."

After introductions and Clarisse's assurances that she would rather stay outside and admire the view, Joseph and Hollis went inside to deal with the paperwork. An intricately-patterned wrought-iron gate at the far end of the walkway caught her eye and, with Shades trailing several yards behind, she made her way across the yard to examine what lay behind it. It led to one of the home's three walled gardens, and Clarisse pushed the creaking gate open slowly, immediately interested. Around her was a large tangled rose garden that wrapped around the corner of the house, and she recognized several of the bushes as being older heirloom varieties.

Making her way across the brick path, she paused to look into the house through French doors that badly needed a coat of paint. Though dark, she could see a portion of a beautiful inlaid floor. The outside was of large, gray stone, and appeared to be well over a century old.

The next gate led to what was obviously the kitchen garden, it's rock-lined plots nearly empty but for dill, parsley, and other self-sown herbs. A bedraggled scarecrow leaned against the far corner, near a small pear tree that needed pruning. But, it was the glass roof of the greenhouse beyond the far wall that caught and held Clarisse's eye. Shades had to push the heavy gate to the third garden open for her, and it creaked loudly as he leaned against it, forcing it back.

The last garden was the largest and had beautiful lines, she thought, walking slowly down a long brick path lined by overgrown boxwoods. In her mind, she could see potential. If several of the larger bushes were moved…that sunny area opened up for annuals…perhaps Sweet Autumn clematis spilling over the arbor…

At the middle of the garden stood a fountain depicting a leaping trio of dolphins, a wonderful creation of art. Although dry, she could imagine how refreshing it would be to see and hear on warm summer days. A sitting area nearby would be perfect for reading or a cup of tea. On warm summer nights, lit by torches or fairy lights, it would be lovely for an outdoor party.

Unable to resist, she entered the greenhouse- after Shades went in first. Smelling of earth and fertilizer, the greenhouse was roomy enough for several projects, but not so big as to be difficult to keep up. During the winter, it would be an ideal place to putter about. Perhaps, she would build one like it at the North Palace, she mused.

Outside the garden wall, she found the stables, and thought of her thoroughbreds. It had been at least ten years since she had ridden she suddenly realized with a pang of regret. Why had she never taken the time to ride? She would definitely make sure that the North Palace grounds had room for at least a few of her horses. As she walked past the newer barn, she wondered if Joseph knew how to ride. Beyond the fenced training area, the distant hills looked inviting; for a moment, she imagined the two of them leisurely riding along trails skirting the river that glittered in the distance. How far did the property extend?

Returning to the front yard, she entered through the stone-fronted foyer. The house had the smell of old wood to it, a pleasant scent that bespoke of history. Each room, she noted, as she passed from one to another, needed superficial repairs, but had an elegance about it no modern construction could match. She touched a carved mantle in appreciation; she loved older homes and architecture.

In the formal dining room, she could imagine parties, the family gatherings that spilled out into the garden during summer evenings. In the library, she could picture winter evenings by the fire with a good book, hot cocoa, and Maurice at their feet. Stepping into the ballroom, she pictured the large area filled with tuxedoed men and brightly gowned ladies, dancing under the polished antique chandeliers. And, at Christmas, treasured ornaments and keepsakes would decorate a tree from the estate's forest placed just so in the far corner- it was the perfect location. Lost in her thoughts, she smiled. Stone Manor had the air of permanence about it…the air of a _home_.

Was that why Joseph had wanted to live here? Was it, at least in part, his desire for a place he knew he could always return to, a place that was his and that he did not have to share with a nation? Frowning, she recalled the previous Christmas, when he had confided his past. He had never had a home or real family. And now that he had a family, she was insisting they live surrounded by dozens of people, in a palace that was not truly theirs.

She was used to it, but did it bother him, sharing their life with others? Did he regret their very public travels and wish for more privacy? Today was the first time they had been truly by themselves- no phone interruptions, no pressing meetings of international importance, no press watching her every move, no cameras capturing every occurrence. Was this what normal marriages were like?

And just less than a hour before, he said she did not have to make decisions for him and mentioned her choosing where they would live. The comment had not meant much at the time, but now she realized she had done just that without any regard to her husband's wishes. She closed her eyes in dismay. That had been so very thoughtless …so uncaring.

Suddenly, Clarisse realized she wanted a _real_ home and marriage. For all her adult life she had given of herself, always thinking first of others, never allowing herself to fully enjoy each day. It would certainly be a change… Could she in reality do that? Could she put herself and Joseph first? Perhaps not entirely, she decided, but she knew how to make a start.

Footsteps behind her made her turn quickly. "If you are ready, my dear, we can leave," Joseph said, his voice echoing softly in the vacant room. He stopped, halfway across the room. "I'm sorry that it took longer than I expected."

"It gave me a chance to look about and think," she said, her gaze taking in the exquisite gilded hand-carved details. "And, I believe," she said, coming to stand beside him and take his arm, "that our first activity as hosts in our new home should be a bit less ambitious than a ball, don't you?"

"I suppose." Taking one last look about the house that almost become his home, Joseph shrugged and turned away. She let her hand drop. He began walking towards the door.

Taking a step after him, she gestured to the faded wallpaper. "Perhaps we could leave this room for later and concentrate on the library and living quarters. I'd like to invite the Helmars for a long weekend as our first guests."

Abruptly, Joseph turned to face her. "What? What are you saying, Clarisse?"

She crossed to meet him and took his hand in both of hers, lifting it to her lips. "I want to live here with you, in this house- in our own home."

For a long moment, he said nothing. "Are you certain?" he finally asked, touching her cheek softly. She nodded and Joseph took her in his arms and held her close. "Our own home," he repeated.

In the doorway, where he had come to say goodbye, Hollis smiled and turned away as the couple kissed, and then tore in half the document Joseph had just signed.

* * *

In the days following her decision to live at Stone Manor, Clarisse found some measure of inner peace. It did not quell all her worries or concerns, but knowing she and her husband would have their own home gave her comfort. She would have liked to discuss the worries that lay heavy on her mind, but she did not truly understand them herself. Instead, she concentrated on her duties and in her personal time made plans for their new home. As Joseph made it clear he would be one primarily responsible for the purchase of the estate, she made sure she discussed her ideas with him. Charlotte had been right; he preferred antiques and conservative décor.

Glancing out the window, she saw that the clouds had cleared and the sun was now shining. Apparently, they were going to have several days of beautiful weather. The idea of spending an hour or so in her garden perusing several sample books of paint and fabric appealed to her, but the budget for the coming year needed work. Clarisse slipped her glasses on and opened the bound folder.

Ten minutes later, the was a knock on the door, and Miss Parker entered.

"It's with a _heavy_ heart, ma'am, that I have to give you my two-week's notice of _resignation_," Miss Parker said, plunking herself down in one of the chairs before the desk and placing a pudgy hand over her bosom. "But me publisher is _insisting_ I go to America for a tour to promote me books."

"Oh, I see," Clarisse said, removing her glasses. Ever since the bombshell announcement that her head housekeeper was the author of those scandalous romances, she had wondered when Miss Parker would be leaving. "Well, congratulations on your success. I hope you have many more years of the same. It is quite an accomplishment."

"Thank you, ma'am. It's been a right _hard_ decision about whether to leave, I _must_ say. There's so much inspiration here at the palace," Miss Parker explained breathlessly. "Why, I've already decided on my next series." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's about a _gardener_ posing as a _spy_ who is really the heir to the Spanish throne."

"Oh, my!" Clarisse exclaimed, looking past her former Head of Housekeeping. Outside the French doors, inspecting the stonework on her terrace was Miguel, her own Head of Gardens and Grounds. Clipboard in hand, his dark, tanned skin was in stark contrast to his white shirt. At least the likeness of Joseph wouldn't be appearing nearly nude on anymore of Miss Parker's novels. Somehow, Clarisse found that a little disappointing. "That sounds like a very interesting premise, indeed."

"Preorders already have it in the _top_ 100 list and I've _not_ even written it yet," the author said proudly. She came to her feet. "Well, I'd best be going. Got to be in town for a TV interview in an hour." She stuck out her hand and Clarisse took it. Giving the queen's hand a good shake, Miss Parker winked and cast a quick, bold glance toward Miguel, who caught sight of them through the door and blushed from his neck up. "I'll be _back_, though. I've unfinished _business_ here."

As Miss Parker left, Clarisse could only shake her head and smile.

* * *

"Joseph," she called, gesturing with a pencil in her hand to get his attention. "I think the buddleia would fit better just to the left of the camellia."

Stripped to his undershirt and standing in the middle of the formal garden, covered with mud from his knees of his black jeans down and filthy with dirt elsewhere, Joseph stabbed the shovel into the damp earth and looked all around. Surrounding him were plants of various sizes, all appearing the same to his untrained eye- scrawny bushes with few, if any, leaves.

When a conference over the weekend was cancelled, they took advantage of the time and the unusually fine late November weather to make a trip to Stone Manor. The house was purchased in his name, and, other than alterations for security, he was paying for all the work it required. He decided to hire local craftsmen, and so eager were they to have the couple moving into their area, they had begun work only days after Joseph had signed the papers.

They decided to move the furnishings from his apartment to Stone Manor, so the bedroom and library, at least, were not bare. The plumbing had been seen to, as had the gas and electricity. Once the plasterers finished repairing the walls that had to be torn out to reach the piping and wires, a team of painters would set to work. Despite the large amount of work to be done, it was coming along very well. In fact, if they did not mind workers in their midst, they could actually move in after Mia's coronation.

"Any idea which one is a buddleia?" he asked Anton, who was watching over his royal charge from the enviable comfort of a nearby shady bench. Hans, who was assigned as their driver, was napping in preparation for the drive back to Pyrus that evening.

"Nope." Anton crossed his arms and leaned back, smiling. "You're doing a fine job though, sir."

Joseph snorted and gave the younger man a look that promised retribution later. He looked to his wife. "My dear, which one of these dead plants is a buddleia?"

"They aren't dead, Joseph, just dormant," she answered absently, studying the notes on her clipboard.

"I stand corrected," he said, giving her a short bow. "Which one of these dormant plants is a buddleia?"

"That one," she replied, pointing the eraser end of the pencil toward one of the shorter scrawny plants.

"Right." He leaned down and grabbed the bush by its not dead but dormant limbs and yanked. It came out easily, mainly because he had planted it less than ten minutes before, just after uprooting it twice previously. He searched around for the camellia, and then hopefully glanced at Anton.

"I think that one with the bigger leaf is it," Anton answered. "My grandmother had those in her yard and named one of my aunts after the plant."

"Good thing she didn't name her after this- she'd be your Aunt Buddy," Joseph muttered. A spur of the moment decision, Clarisse wanted the garden outside the library put to rights, even though they had come to their house to oversee the plasterers. Thinking the job entailed little more than pulling a few weeds and trimming a few limbs, Joseph had gallantly offered himself as manual labor. Five hours later, he wished he hadn't.

He wiped the back of his hand, equally grimy as the front, across his sweaty forehead. The sun was starting to set behind the trees, and he had heard the plasterers leave an hour before. His stomach growled. Stepping on the shovel, he dug another hole and plopped the bush in. He turned to find his wife looking at him, deep in thought with the pencil pressed to her lips. "On second thought, I think it might clash with the holly I have planned for that corner." She made a decision. "Joseph, dear, it must go back to where it was before," she said, erasing the mistake on the to-scale layout she had drawn of the garden.

Joseph stared at her.

She shook her head and sighed. "No, I'm afraid this just won't work, at all. I'm going to need more room for the salvia and cleomes. Those boxwoods will have to go back to where they were and the buddleia-"

"No!" Joseph threw the shovel down and pointed toward the much-traveled buddleia. "It stays here. The boxwoods stay there."

"But-"

"No. I'm not digging up that _dead_ bush again!" Hands on his hips, he took a deep breath. Behind him, Anton had a coughing fit. "I am going to get cleaned up then go get something to eat. You can either come in or sit out here in the dark, Clarisse, but I'm heading to the shower."

Clarisse started to protest, but the sight of his damp t-shirt clinging to his muscular chest brought tempting thoughts. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea," she said primly, as he stomped past her toward the house. "I think I'll come inside with you."

Watching the queen hurry after her husband, Anton grinned, and then headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and to sit and wait. It seemed they wouldn't be leaving for Pyrus for quite some time.


	11. Chapter 11

_Disney/ Buena Vista and Meg Cabot own the rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I make no profit from this._

* * *

Chapter 11

With December came winter. The earlier chill rain had finally let up and there was the crisp scent of coming snow in the air as the temperature dropped. Having spent much of the morning in a meeting with several members of Parliament, and then attending a Christmas reception for government employees that afternoon in Pyrus, they were glad to be back at the palace. Following a simple meal of hot soup, a salad, and fresh bread, Clarisse and Joseph had retired to their apartment. Now, in her softest, most comfortable nightgown, she was snuggled up next to him on the bed, sipping a glass of wine.

Joseph knew she needed to unwind, so he was letting her talk about whatever crossed her mind. He was certain something was causing her a great deal of concern. He had seen Clarisse under many different circumstances: worried, angry, discouraged, and even distraught, but this silent apprehensiveness about her during the past few weeks was different, and he was unsure what was causing it.

What it their home? Now, nearing the end of the first week of December, it had been a little a month since he had purchased Stone Manor and work had already begun on its renovations. Clarisse seemed delighted with her decision; she had spent hours going over photographs and to-scale drawings of the house's rooms planning renovations and their new home's décor. To his surprise, and appreciation, she consulted with him on the options they had. In general, they had agreed to furnish their home with antiques and pieces suitable to the home's period and style, and he had given her a free hand.

Even though he had no reservations about moving in while major work was in progress, Clarisse was reluctant to have workmen underfoot daily. He understood and had agreed to stay at the palace for at least the month of January. This would also give Clarisse an opportunity to be close to Mia during the weeks following the coronation, which she desired. She was pleased with this arrangement, so he doubted Stone Manor was troubling her.

There were also important issues being debated with the Genovian Parliament, as well as delicate matters pending between Genovia and its European neighbors that she had spent many days working toward solving. Several were pressing and of great importance, but no differences were large enough to jeopardize a resolution, in Joseph's opinion. He felt sure Parliament would find agreement and that the upcoming trade talks in Zurich between the countries would iron out any last unresolved points.

Further from home, Clarisse and Stefan had launched a new and aggressive legal attack against the Duke of Thornfield, about whom rumors of poor health continued to spread. Apparently, Gustav was not as enthusiastic in pursuing Addington as he was before and had gone back on his word, refusing to join their latest lawsuit. Gustav's decision angered Clarisse particularly since Gustav refused to answer why. While this caused her concern on both a professional and personal level, Joseph did not think this was it. Clarisse did not hesitate to express her opinion on this subject, and he knew she planned to press forward with the legal battle.

No, it was more likely her concern for her granddaughter. In the past weeks, Clarisse had finally given more responsibility to Mia, but he could see she fretted over each duty, even though she did not say so. Was she concerned that Mia did not have the skills to handle the position and that the country would suffer? Parliament worked very closely with Genovia's monarch, and Joseph felt that they would be watchful when Mia assumed the crown. Sebastian Motaz was well qualified for his post as Prime Minister, and would step in whenever the country's best interest was not being considered. But, perhaps Clarisse worried both Parliament and Motaz would be too quick to criticize or censure Mia.

Was Clarisse still worried that her granddaughter would have neither the support nor the respect of her people? Events of the past summer did not speak highly of Mia's judgment, it could easily be argued, and no one would accept imprudence of youth as an excuse for her decisions in the years to come as queen. He knew how much the Genovian people's respect and devotion meant to Clarisse and how dear they were to her heart.

These last concerns, he decided, must be what were bothering her. But, try as he might, he could not think of a way to comfort his wife. Eventually, Mia would have to find her own way, and there was nothing Clarisse could do.

Shifting in his arms, Clarisse reached for her glass, bringing him back from his thoughts, and Joseph realized he had not been paying attention to what she was saying. He turned his full consideration to his wife.

"And, it was one of my worst moments- I was extremely frightened." She took two sips of wine before setting the goblet back on the table beside the bed.

"Your were frightened? When?" he asked, running his fingers along the smooth skin of her cheek.

"Several years ago- in Brussels," she murmured, relaxing further against him. He murmured something she took as encouragement and continued. "It was at an economic summit held in the Palais de Nations."

"Really? At the Palais?" he asked, nonchalantly. "Tell me about it, my dear."

"Somehow, and I'm still not certain just how," she began, ignoring his feather-light touch. It was something she wanted to share with him, perhaps because she felt so safe in his arms. "I found myself in the midst of an…well, it was a terrorist attack."

Had Clarisse been able to see his face, she would have seen a look of surprised recognition cross it. His hand stilled for a moment, then continued to her arm. "How very unpleasant for you. Go on, my love."

"Oh, yes. It was a terrible experience." Clarisse shuddered at the memory. "One I wish never repeated."

"I can only imagine," Joseph agreed, recalling his own experience that night in Brussels.

"I had gone into the main hall for a cup of tea then suddenly the lights went out and there was an explosion and-"

"An explosion?" He kissed her hair. "In the Palais? Who would have done such a thing?"

"Yes! Then someone grabbed me in the dark and….well, this is _very_ embarrassing."

"How could it possibly be embarrassing?" he asked, touching his lips to her neck.

"Well, as it happened, the man was only trying to get me to safety."

Joseph shrugged. "Nothing embarrassing about that, my sweet…unless you fought him tooth and nail like a frenzied wildcat."

Clarisse sighed. "I'm afraid I did."

"You resisted his help?"

"I didn't know! I thought he was trying to hurt me," she explained. She twisted the lace edge of the coverlet. "I'm afraid I clawed his face- I think I broke his nose-"

"Probably not."

"…and kicked him."

Joseph whistled softly. "I see. Well, just as long as you didn't damage anything vital."

"I'm afraid I did," Clarisse admitted awkwardly. She sat up, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I kicked him…_there_."

Joseph winced. "My dear Clarisse! _There_?"

She nodded, unable to look at him. "Yes- as hard as I could."

Joseph sucked in his breath at the memory. Her voice filled with misery, Clarisse rushed on. "I wanted to tell him how so very sorry I was, but couldn't because they hurried me away and wouldn't tell me his name or anything about him except that he was an agent working with Interpol. I'm sure it hurt him terribly-"

"I'm sure it did," Joseph remarked dryly.

"-but despite that, he didn't hurt me in return or let me go," she continued quickly.

"I can't blame him," Joseph murmured, pulling her close to him again. "I wouldn't want to let you go, either."

Clarisse settled back against him, still distressed. She sighed. "I just wish I could have apologized."

"So, you didn't see him again?" He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. "My love, did you have thoughts of your rescuer during the weeks following?"

"Well, yes, I did." she answered wistfully, recalling daydreams about the mysterious man and his strong body pressed close to hers. Guiltily, she hurried to add, "I regretted very much not being able to make amends. I can't imagine what he thought of me."

"I certainly can," he murmured under his breath. Brushing her gown to the side, he kissed her smooth, white shoulder. "Did he manage to say anything to you, my dear- in between your doing your best to maim him?"

"A few words. I'm afraid I didn't heed them." She shrugged. "For the most part, he was trying to get me to calm down."

"I bet I can guess what they were," Joseph said.

"Doubtful," she replied, shaking her head.

Joseph leaned very close and whispered in her ear. "Policia…polizia…police…"

Clarisse twisted around to look at him. "Joseph, how did you…" Her eyes widened and a flood of memories came to her…the man's scent, his indefinable accent, the strength of his arms as he held her.

_"That was you?"_

"Yes, and I thought of you daily for quite some time afterwards," he said matter-of-factly.

"You thought of me?"

"Every time I sat or coughed or-"

"Oh, Joseph!"

He gave a mock sigh. "It's true, my love, and my men never let me forget how I was thoroughly worked over by an elegant lady in high heels and a skirt."

"I am so _very_ sorry!" Clarisse moaned. "To think that I-"

Joseph shushed her with a quick kiss. "I must admit, I thought of you for other reasons, too, my love." Gently, he eased her down on the mattress and leaned over her, his mouth just above hers. "Now, Your Majesty, about making amends…"

* * *

It seemed Joseph was not the only one noticing the tension in Clarisse. Mia had come to him asking questions about her grandmother, and he had brushed them aside saying it was simply the hustle and bustle of the holiday season and excitement of her coming coronation in three short weeks that had Clarisse distracted. To Joseph's relief Mia accepted his explanation. He could hardly voice his suspicions that Clarisse did not have confidence in Mia's ability to rule.

Deciding her grandmother needed to get away from the palace, Mia convinced Clarisse to go shopping. So, the two of them, accompanied by Shade and his staff, were in Pyrus for the morning. Perhaps it was what Clarisse needed- to get away.

The palace was quiet and Joseph was catching up on work at a small desk in their apartment. Although Clarisse had offered him what had been Rupert's office, Joseph had chosen not to accept it. He did not merit an official office and did not want to give the impression he was involved in state affairs. Also, he did not want her to think he was settling in for a long duration; the sooner he and Clarisse moved to their own home, the better.

"Sir, your mail has arrived," Cates said. His tread was soft and nearly noiseless. He placed a packet of various-sized envelopes on the desk, along with two small packages.

"Thank you," Joseph replied, giving the boxes a quick glance to see who sent them. He was expecting samples of a new surveillance software. He and Chesterson had agreed to not schedule any new clients for the holidays, so only a trip to Monaco just before Christmas remained.

"Mr. Hollis called earlier while you were on the phone, sir, and asked me to inform you that the new heating unit will be installed at Stone Manor the first week of January," Cates said, placing the memo neatly on top the stack of letters. "Additionally, sir, Shades has sent word that Princess Mia and Her Majesty plan to dine at the Golden Pear Hotel and will be home later this afternoon."

Joseph smiled. "I wish I knew how to get Her Majesty to just drop everything for a day," he said, thinking back to San Francisco many years ago. "Mia seems to have the knack for it."

"Indeed, she does. A remarkable young woman, if I may say so, sir," Cates agreed. "Mrs. Cates asks if there is anything in particular you would like for luncheon."

"Is there more venison stew left? It was excellent."

Cates beamed with pride. "I shall inquire. That is one of Mrs. Cates' best dishes, sir, and it is a particular favorite of mine."

"You're a lucky man, Cates," Joseph said. In a fit of domesticity, Clarisse had tried to make him an asparagus and mushroom omelet one night the previous week; neither had mentioned the incident since.

"Without a doubt, we both are," Cates agreed gravely.

Joseph asked him to take a seat and, after a bit of encouragement, the butler did. "What are your plans for the future?" Joseph asked.

"My wife and I have agreed to stay for a short while before retiring, to help the princess transition her staff. After retiring…well, sir, I plan to catch as many trout as I can," Cates replied, allowing himself the liberty of grinning broadly.

Joseph laughed. "A very commendable plan."

"I'm looking forward to it- not that working at the palace for Her Majesty hasn't been gratifying, sir," he hastily added. Cates lowered his voice. "To be honest, I fear Mrs. Cates will feel lost without her kitchen and responsibilities. It has me somewhat worried."

"I see." Joseph rubbed his jaw, considering. "Cates, you are aware that Clarisse and I are moving to Stone Manor…eventually."

"I fine idea, sir," Cates replied.

"Frankly, we are in an difficult situation," Joseph continued. "We do not want a large staff, yet we will certainly need help." Without thinking he laid his hand on his stomach and frowned.

"Er, yes, sir. I understand," Cates said, trying to hold back a laugh. Joseph looked at him and he quickly schooled his expression to one of sympathy. "I heard about Her Majesty's evening in the kitchen."

"Exactly. Anyway, other than outside staff to take care of Clarisse's horses and an estate manager for the grounds, we will need someone to come in and clean, do the laundry- things of that sort. As for the cooking, simple meals would suffice. If there are larger dinners, we would have caterers handle them."

Cates looked into the distance, thinking. "I would say, sir, that two dailies to do the housework and laundry, along with supplemental help for seasonal decorating or more thorough cleaning, would suffice. As for the kitchen, one cook may be adequate, providing the grocers can make regular delivery of supplies."

"Although it would not involve much time or effort," Joseph added, "we would also need someone to oversee the daily running of the house."

Cates smiled; that was his position at the palace. "Of course, sir."

"Most importantly, we do not wish to have strangers in our home. If you and Mrs. Cates are interested, we would be pleased to have you accompany us to Stone Manor," Joseph offered. He waited, allowing the butler to get over his surprise. "Both of you would have any help you think necessary. We do not want either of you to work long hours or be unable to make plans of your own."

"This is quite a surprise, sir," Cates said, taking a deep breath. "I should have to discuss your offer with my wife."

"Of course. Not that I would want to influence you unduly," Joseph said, slowly, "but there's a fully furnished cottage for you within a ten minute's walk of a stocked creek."

"Trout, sir?" Cates asked hopefully.

Joseph nodded. "Big ones, I've been told."

Ten minutes later, Cates grabbed his wife from behind, pulling her away from the casserole she was putting together for the evening meal. "Gerta, forget moving in with your sister," he exclaimed, swinging her around to face him. He gave her a big kiss that made her squeal. "The queen and Joseph need us!"

* * *

With a frown, Anton watched his queen standing quietly before King Rupert's tomb. Shortly after four o'clock, she had called him to her office and requested he bring her to the cemetery saying she wished to lay fresh flowers on Rupert's and Philip's graves. Had he known it was going to be more than just a few minutes' visit, he would have brought another agent to keep the car running and warm. She had been there, in the cold, for nearly twenty-five minutes. He glanced skyward; the light snow had begun fifteen minutes ago and promised to get heavier.

In the short days of December, a little less than two weeks before Christmas, the sky was already getting dark. Ten minutes earlier, he had approached the queen, asking if she were ready to leave; her only response was to shake her head. While he had the right and the responsibility to physically remove the queen from dangerous circumstances, he was uncertain if this situation would qualify. Should he drag her bodily to the limo against her will, the queen might not agree or understand. Calling the security office to let Shades know, his boss told him someone was on the way. He checked his watch and hoped his help arrived soon.

With classes starting the second week of January, he had only a few more weeks at the palace. He would stay for Princess Mia's coronation, wanting to see that affair through, and then leave the following morning, going directly to London. Neither he nor Cassie Addington wanted to endure two years apart while he finished his graduate studies, so they planned move in together. Between what he had saved and her income from the two sisters' design studio, which was doing very well, they would be able to get by. In addition, when his schedule permitted, he would find security work to bring in extra money. They would manage somehow.

He had met her aunt and uncle, the Duke and Duchess, Everett and Margaret Howe, over dinner at their spacious home on London's outskirts. They were very cordial, particularly when they learned he worked for Queen Clarisse. In a roundabout way they had asked several personal questions about Joseph, something he found odd. Was his former boss known that far and wide?

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he tried to get the blood flowing to his toes; his feet were going numb. A gust of wind sent icy flakes swirling crazily over the barren graveyard, and Queen Clarisse hunched forward a little and raised a gloved hand to her face. Anton swore under his breath. Despite her woolen slacks, sweater, and heavy coat, the queen had to be freezing. He was going to insist she leave, come what may. Taking a step forward, he heard the heavy gate behind him open- it was Joseph. He breathed a sigh of relief.

With a nod to Anton, Joseph strode down the paved walk to the dark granite obelisk marking the king's grave. Her head bowed, Clarisse stood there, clutching a bouquet. A similar one lay on the smooth stone of Philip's tomb. Her shoulders rose and shook. Quickly, he moved to her side.

"Clarisse?" he asked softly, reaching to take her arm. She raised her head to look at him, and he saw her eyes were reddened. Her cheeks wet and pale, she tried to speak. Gently, he took the bouquet from her hand and placed it below Rupert's marker, and then slipped his coat off and placed it around her shoulders. Firmly, he led her away, hurrying her to the waiting car.

Joseph pulled her into his arms as the car sped away, grateful that Shades had raised the partition and had the heat on full. By the time they reached the palace, Clarisse was calmer and had stopped shaking. Waiting in their apartment was a tray of scones and hot tea, and although she did not want any, Joseph insisted.

Dry-eyed, Clarisse held the steaming cup in her hand. "I'm so sorry I caused anyone to worry," she said quietly. "I should have left when that young man, Anton, I believe…when Anton suggested it."

At the opposite end of the sofa, Joseph leaned against the corner cushions, watching his wife. "Why didn't you?"

Clarisse took a sip of the tea then set it aside. "I was thinking," she answered hesitantly.

Joseph cocked his head slightly to the side. "Must have been about something important." When she did not answer, he continued gently. "Was it about whatever has been bothering you lately?"

Clarisse fingered the pearl buttons of her sweater, not meeting his gaze. "Yes," she whispered. He waited, but she did not continue.

"My dear, is it about Mia becoming queen?" he asked. She nodded her head, still looking away. "That is understandable," he continued gently. "Mia is young, however-"

Abruptly, Clarisse rose and went to stand at the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Outside, pools of light showed heavy snow covering her beloved garden's walkways in a blanket of white. "It's not…It is not Mia that worries me," she said, her voice breaking. Joseph went to join her. He touched her arm and she looked at him.

"Clarisse, please tell me what's troubling you," he asked softly. She bit her lip and turned back to the window. "Let me help."

"I…I don't know if I can do it," she whispered, slowly shaking her head. "I just don't think I can."

"Can't do what?" Joseph was at a loss to understand his wife. He waited, knowing nothing else to say in encouragement. Finally, she took a deep breath.

"Oh, Joseph! I don't know if I can give up being queen!" Tears running down her cheeks, she turned to him and he took her in his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed on his shoulder. "I know I have to, but I don't…_I don't want to_…"

"My precious love," Joseph crooned, rubbing his hand on her back soothingly. He whispered gentle words as she cried, waiting until the sobs slowed. Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped her cheeks dry, and then gave it to her. Gratefully, she took it, doing her best to discreetly blow her nose. With a final wipe, and a few last sniffles, she nodded.

"Thank you," she said, a slight hitch in her voice. Putting his arm around her, he smiled and led her back to sit beside him on the couch.

"Now, my sweet," he said, pulling her close. She lay her head on his shoulder and sighed. "Tell me what this is all about."

Clarisse sighed again. "This is all so silly and embarrassing," she began. Joseph waved away the comment.

"My dear, you are the least silly woman I know," Joseph replied patiently.

"Well, that's the way I feel," she answered.

When she did not continue, he kissed her hair and prompted, "You said you didn't know if you could give up being queen."

"It's all I've ever known- I've been a royal since I was twenty-one years old!" she said, choking back a frustrated sob as she sat up. "My days have revolved around serving the Genovian people, doing what is best for them- it has been my world for forty years, Joseph!"

He caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips. "I'm very glad you did what is best for this loyal subject."

Her expression softened. "So am I," she said, curling her fingers around his. "I think that was the first time I did something wholly for my own benefit."

"A admirable first step," he replied solemnly. "My dear, you are a remarkable woman. I don't think I've ever met anyone as giving as you."

"It was what I was brought up to do," she explained, dismissing his words.

"No, this unselfishness is a mark of who you are- a warm, generous, caring woman," he countered. She blushed at his compliments, but shook her head.

"But, without my position and my people, I'm afraid I'll be lost…and not needed," she said softly. "Other than queen, I don't know who I am…or what else to _be_."

"You are my wife, my dear, and I'll always need you," he replied, thinking of how alone he had been during his life. "I need you to be my wife."

"But-"

"You are my family and my life, Clarisse, and I have loved you since the first time we met- since that day in the blue room. You are the only reason I stayed," he said. He looked away before continuing. "I've never had a real family. I mentioned it before- that mother and grandmother died when I was young. I did not tell you that my father…he..." He hesitated, and Clarisse gently squeezed his hand. Even though he disliked keeping something so important from her, he found could not bring himself to tell her about Morley Addington. Not now…perhaps never. Instead, he said, "My father wanted nothing to do with me."

"Oh, Joseph!" she whispered softly, leaning against his shoulder. "I didn't know."

"It is the past," he said, with a shrug, to all appearances dismissing the subject. "The present is our life together, and that is what is most important." He kissed the top of her head and smiled.

Turning Clarisse so that she faced him, still in his arms, he continued, his words upbeat. "My dear, while I understand that at times I will have to share the Queen Grandmother with the rest of the country, I must confess I am very much looking forward to having her all to myself." He touched his lips to hers then pulled her onto his lap. "The question is: how shall we keep busy?"

An hour later, sated and sleepy, with her head resting on her husband's chest, Clarisse sighed. "I believe, my dear Joseph, that we shall find _plenty_ to do."

* * *

Descending the steps to the waiting car, Clarisse glanced around. This trip to Zurich to join Mia in trade talks with the European Union representatives was her last before Mia took the crown on the second day of the new year, less than two weeks away. Upon her return, she was looking forward to being home until they moved into Stone Manor. After confessing her fears to Joseph the night before, she now felt more comfortable with the coming changes in her life than before. She realized it would be a significant adjustment, but felt sure she would be able to handle it.

"Where is Joseph?" she asked, expecting him to be already at the portico to see her off on her trip. Mia was flying in to Zurich from Paris, where she had spent the weekend with friends; Joseph was not accompanying her today due to meetings with Genovia's civil defense secretary and his own business responsibilities. He would, however, be joining her there in two days.

"He is on his way, ma'am," Charlotte said, handing the queen's briefcase to Shades, who placed it on the back seat of the waiting limousine. A cold gust of wind blew through the covered driveway. "Perhaps Your Majesty would rather wait-" She was cut off by Joseph hurrying through the double doors. He took the steps two at a time.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, my dear. Sebastian called just as I was leaving," Joseph said, crossing to her. He handed her the red rose her was holding and gave her a kiss.

"How lovely," Clarisse exclaimed, inhaling the bloom's sweet scent. She smiled at her husband. "Any particular reason?"

Joseph lifted his shoulder slightly. "Because I can," he answered simply. "I'll see you in two days."

He touched her cheek gently before she got in. He shut the door. Through the dark glass, she knew he could not see her, but he gave her a smile before turning away and walking slowly toward the steps.

_Because I can…_

Clarisse heard the years of loneliness and frustration behind his words. How many years had he watched silently from the shadows, never able to speak his heart, but daring to hope one day his dream would be fulfilled?

Joseph's admission that he had loved her since the day they met, now over seven years ago, had surprised her. Certainly, while Rupert was alive, Joseph had never given her cause to think he was attracted to her; after Rupert's death, until last spring, she had thought his attentions were that of a close friend. Or, perhaps she had chosen to believe that, not wanting to confront her own feelings. Had she simply trusted her heart…

At the top of the steps, he turned and gave her another smile, lifting his hand then closing it in a fist as he let it fall to his side. She placed her hand against the window, hoping he would see it. Her beloved Joseph. The car started forward.

"_Stop!_" Clarisse cried, pulling at the door handle. Brakes squealed as the car came to an abrupt halt. She scrambled out, in a most unladylike manner for a queen, and ran to Joseph, flinging herself into his arms.

His left arm around her shoulder, he turned her so that his body shielded hers, and automatically reached for the gun he no longer carried. Forming a protective semi-circle, two guards stepped in front of them, guns at the ready for whatever danger she had seen.

"Oh, Joseph, it will be far too lonely without you!" she exclaimed, snuggling against his shoulder, completely unaware of the commotion she had caused. "All those wasted years because I was afraid to love- I don't want to waste another day."

Two safety catches clicked on as Shades and Hans tucked their weapons away and moved to stand beside the car. They cast a quick glance at the queen and their former boss, then at each other and grinned broadly.

"Shh, my dear," Joseph said, wrapping both his arms around her to hold her close. "There's no need to be upset."

"I don't want to leave you." She put her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder.

"It's only for two days, my dear," he reasoned, touching his lips to her hair.

Clarisse sighed. _Time_. There was never enough time. She made her decision.

She pulled away from him slightly, but not far enough away to leave the circle of his arms. "Charlotte, send my regrets," she ordered resolutely. "I will not be going today."

"But, Your Majesty, what shall I tell everyone?"

Smiling at Joseph, she set her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Tell them I will wait and accompany my husband to Zurich. Mia can stand in for me at the meetings. She is, after all, going to be queen." She kissed him quickly before he could say anything, and then took his hand.

"They can wait, but our love can't," she said leading him back into the palace. She had two days with absolutely nothing on her schedule. A twinkle came to her eyes. She wasn't going to waste a single, precious minute of it.

* * *

_AN: I'm trying to cover all loose ends. If you can think of any other than Joseph's father and family, Shades and Charlotte, Anton and Cassie, Gustav and Ginny...then let me know!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Disney/Buena Vista and Meg Cabot own all rights. I do no profit from this and intend no infringement on their rights. _

* * *

Chapter 12

His brow furrowing, King Gustav of Cerneland's white, bushy eyebrows bunched together as he listened intently to his secretary. "This is very grave, indeed, but not unexpected," he said, accepting the cup of hastily prepared coffee his valet brought him. He took a sip then came to his feet, his lingering drowsiness gone. The clock over the mantel showed it was not quite four in the morning; he had a great deal to do.

"Please have my plane readied. I've several calls to make, but will be leaving for Genovia shortly," he ordered, going to the telephone in the small library off from his sitting room. Closing the door behind him, Gustav sank into the cushioned chair behind the desk. So, he thought as he reached for the phone, it had finally happened.

* * *

_"Gustav and the Duke of Thornfield are _here_?"_

Teacup poised halfway to her lips, the queen stared in disbelief at her aide. It was December twenty-third and she had planned to spend the morning at party for the staff's children and the afternoon videotaping her Christmas address to the people of Genovia. Joseph had flown the previous morning to Monaco for a consultation, but was planning to return before noon, if not earlier.

"Yes, ma'am. Shades said the king called to say that he and the duke were on the way to the palace from the airport. They arrived five minutes ago," Charlotte explained, still out of breath from hurrying to the queen's apartment. She had just pulled into her parking place when Shades called, telling her the news. The unexpected arrival of royalty, before eight a.m. and her first cup of coffee, was not the way to start her morning. "Oh, and Joseph is home," she added, hoping that particular piece of good news would help. It did not appear to.

Queen Clarisse's expression darkened. "Morley Addington! The absolute gall of that…that…"

"Shades put them in the Blue Room," Charlotte continued, when the queen could not find the right words and sputtered to a halt. "They requested coffee, so-"

"_Well!_ The Duke of Thornfield having his morning coffee in _my_ palace - we'll just see about _that_!" Clarisse declared, having no trouble find the right words this time. She set the delicate bone china cup down so hard the tea sloshed over the side, rattling the saucer and threatening to tip over. Throwing on her jacket, she kicked her slippers toward the bed, stepped into her pumps, and flung a scarf around her neck. She was out of her apartment in record time.

Clarisse strode angrily down the hallway, the just-arrived cleaning staff scattering out of her way. _"_I cannot believe Gustav actually brought that man to my home!_ Morley Addington is an odious, obnoxious-"_

She glided down the stairway smoothly…

_"-conniving, irresponsible-"_

…and onto the landing, heels clicking a staccato cadence on the tile flooring,...

_"- arrogant, overbearing-"_

… as her Hermes scarf trailed out behind her,

_'-ill bred-"_

…leaving astonished palace staff in her wake.

_"-disgusting leach of a fool who hasn't one ounce of redeemable value in his foul, black-hearted, repulsive soul!"_

Out of breath, she steadied herself on the doorjamb to the Blue Room to recover, waiting impatiently as the younger woman hurried to catch up with her. "Charlotte, immediately have two guards posted outside this room and make sure a car is waiting at the back door- _not the front door!_- for the duke. He will_ not _be here long!"

"Yes, ma'am," Charlotte squeaked. Never had she ever seen the queen this angry.

"Is Joseph at the palace or still at the airport?" Clarisse asked, straightening her jacket. She brushed a wisp of hair back into place. A proper appearance, she had found, always strengthened one's position, and she did not plan to give Morley Addington any advantage, however small.

"I don't know, Your Majesty," Charlotte answered. "Would you like for me to find him?"

"No, I'll see him shortly. This will not take long." Clarisse tucked her scarf inside her jacket. "Right now, I'm going to _kick_ that pitiful excuse of a man out of my house, and then demand that Gustav explain himself. The nerve of Gustav! This time, Charlotte, he had gone too far, and _I will not stand for it!_" she declared.

Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Queen Clarisse took a deep breath and flung open the door, ready to do battle. She stepped into the sun-filled room and let it slam shut behind her with a satisfying bang.

King Gustav immediately jumped up from his chair to his feet and came to her, arms outstretched. "Clarisse, my dear! You look lovely," he gushed. He kissed her on one cheek then the other. "Forgive my sudden appearance, and at such a dreadfully early hour at that, I beg you."

"You are always welcome, Gustav," she answered coolly, glancing about. She would deal with her fellow sovereign later. The only other occupant of the room was Joseph, who stood with his back to her at a small table on which rested the coffee service. Morley Addington was nowhere to be seen. Was the bloody devil roaming the halls of her palace?

"The Duke of Thornfield, however, is most certainly _not_ welcome in my home!" she huffed, sitting on the end of the sofa nearest to the king. "Really, Gustav! Where is he and how _could_ you bring such a loathsome man to my home? You know how I feel."

Gustav put his hands up in self-defense. "Clarisse, dear-"

"The duke will be immediately returned- _under guard_- to the airport and expelled from Genovia!" Clarisse fixed him with a hard stare. "And, if you were planning to speak on his behalf, Gustav, you may accompany him."

"If you would kindly allow me explain-"

"_No!_ You and I differ greatly in the matter of how best to deal with Addington, and I regret that," Clarisse charged on, shaking her head. "But, understand well that there is _nothing_ more to be said about the duke. I will _not_ have that detestable man in my home or my country!"

Sounding more like a laugh, Gustav put his fist over his mouth and coughed, his face reddening. "I see. The Duke of Thornfield is not welcome here?"

"Not even for one moment! I know you refuse to join us," she said, working up another head of steam, her disapproval of Gustav's position very clear, "but yesterday I instructed our Royal Attorney to file criminal charges through the European Court against the duke and a lien against his holdings. I know for certain that four other countries did the same and the charges will stick. This time, the media will be acquainted with all the facts." Her voice rose even louder. "The House of Thornfield will be humiliated and ruined as his affairs will be picked over with a fine-toothed comb and every newspaper across the continent will print the truth. Morley Addington will be known for _exactly_ what he is."

Across the room, Joseph dropped a spoon onto the silver platter.

Astounded by such a tirade from his elegant and usually mild-tempered friend, Gustav sucked in his breath quickly and grimaced. "Ah, yes, well…about releasing damaging information to the press, Clarisse-"

"Yes, yes, I know you oppose what we've planned," she retorted impatiently with a wave of her hand. "I cannot imagine why-"

"My dear, if you would but give me moment to-"

"Quite frankly, I hope he loses _everything_," she stormed on. "I intend to see that the Duke of Thornfield is disgraced to the point he is unable to show his face in society again." Satisfied she had gotten her point across adequately, and needing to catch her breath, Clarisse fell back against the cushions and crossed her arms, daring him to argue with her.

Gustav's eyes were alight with amusement. "This should be interesting," he chuckled.

Clarisse stared at him. "How can you sit there and laugh? Doesn't Morley Addington deserve to be held accountable for everything he's done?"

"I believe," Gustav said, sitting forward and suddenly very serious, "that the Duke of Thornfield should get _everything_ he is due. And, my dear, I promise I will do _everything_ in my power to see that he does."

"That is most certainly a shift in your position," she replied suspiciously. "Didn't you come here to plea Morley Addington's case?"

"Defending Morley would be a pointless waste of time," Gustav answered somberly.

Clarisse nodded, slightly appeased. "It most certainly would. Now, Gustav, tell me what this is all about."

The king took a long, deep breath, and then let it out slowly. "Ah, yes…why I am here." He looked to where Joseph stood by the table, gazing out the window. When Joseph did not turn around, he continued.

"Clarisse, Morley Addington died early this morning."

"What?" She stared at him in shock. "He's _dead_?"

"Yes."

"But…but, you told my staff the duke was with you, here in Genvoia!" Clarisse stammered, totally confused.

"True," Gustav replied. He glanced across the room and saw Joseph still looking away.

Silent for a moment, Clarisse pulled her thoughts together. "If Morley is dead, then the next to inherit is the son of Addington's daughter, Margaret. I don't understand- why would Kent Howe come here?"

"He isn't here, but the rightful heir to the Thornfield name is." Smiling, Gustav stood and extended his hand to her, drawing her to her feet. He gestured with his other hand. "Allow me to introduce you."

Clarisse stared. There was no one in the room but her husband. When he turned to face her, she looked back at Gustav skeptically.

"I believe the two of you are acquainted?" Gustav chuckled, extremely pleased with himself. Clarisse stared again at her husband.

_"Joseph?"_

* * *

Setting aside the napkin he was using to sop up the coffee he had spilled, Joseph placed the delicate cup back on the saucer and picked it up. Acutely self-conscious and uncomfortable, he turned to face his wife as she stared.

"A cup of coffee, my dear…or perhaps something stronger?"

_"Joseph?"_ Clarisse repeated in disbelief. "I don't understand- you're the…?"

"So it seems." Joseph placed the cup on the low table in front of the couch, and then took her by the arm, guiding her to sit. "Please drink, darling."

Wordlessly, she watched him return to the sideboard.

"Put a dash of something in the coffee, Thornfield," Gustav said, intentionally using Joseph's title. "You look as though you could use it."

Joseph splashed a healthy amount of liquid fortification in two cups, and then filled them with black coffee. His work for the morning accomplished, King Gustav took his coffee with a nod of thanks and settled back in his chair to watch.

Unable to delay an explanation to Clarisse any longer, Joseph took a seat on the couch by his wife. _What would she say? Would she be appalled to discover his father was a man she loathed? Could she ever forgive him for deceiving her?_

Eyes on the steaming cup that sat before him untouched, Joseph debated how to begin. A minute ticked by.

"Well, now that we all have refreshments," Clarisse demanded, looking from one man to the other, "will someone _please_ tell me what's going on?"

"Morley Addington was my father," Joseph answered quietly, unable to meet her eyes.

"But, I knew his wife- we were close friends!"

"The duchess," Joseph continued slowly, forcing his gaze to meet hers, "was obviously not my mother. My mother was… a young scullery maid."

Stunned, Clarisse stared. He saw disgust and anger in her eyes, and he looked away, ashamed. There was no way to keep the truth from her now, he thought bitterly. Nothing could undo the situation. "As I told you before, my mother and grandmother died when I was young and I was placed in a boarding school. I had no contact with my father, other than a couple of accidental meetings later in my life, one of which you witnessed that night in Vienna."

"I am aware I have relatives- an aunt and sisters. But, I have never made myself known to them as his son," he added, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. After all these years, he had thought the hurt was gone. It seemed he was wrong. _Damn his father for the pain and suffering he had caused!_

Joseph took a deep breath and started to add more, but stopped, unable bring himself to give more than a cursory account of what had occurred; even that much was more than he wished her to know. He felt as if he had soiled her. He sat, staring at the steaming cup, silent. Gustav took up the story.

"Out of concern for Joseph and the girls, no one who knew about this would dare cross Morley and speak of it- including myself," Gustav explained grimly. "I imagine Margaret would not have told Lucinda and Cassandra about their brother or even contacted Joseph for fear of what Addington would do. He was rather unstable and spitefully unpredictable for quite a long time. Actually, he tried to pull a few stunts several years back with the girls- not for the first time, I'm sad to say- which Joseph foiled."

Joseph looked at the king. That Gustav knew of his anonymous involvement with his sister's education and business was a surprise. It had not occurred to him that as they were citizens of Cerneland and had ties to its oldest and most powerful title, Gustav would have kept tabs on Addington's daughters. Gustav nodded.

"Yes, I was aware, but I felt it best to not interfere or let on. I truly feared for what he might do to not only you, but to your sisters," he explained sincerely. "Joseph, please do forgive me if I should have stepped in."

"It would have caused more harm than good," Joseph replied.

"That's what I thought, although I must admit I had my doubts at times and was sorely tempted to become involved. Now, with Morley's death," Gustav continued, "I imagine your Aunt Margaret will want to be on the first plane out. She has always known about you and she's very eager to meet you, but…" Gustav considered his choice of words before continuing. "But, she said she doesn't wish to intrude if you prefer she didn't. She feels guilty for not contacting you."

When Joseph did not reply, he continued. "I think you should know that she did what she could without raising Morley's anger or suspicion. She and Everett where the ones who ensured you were able to attend that private school."

A look of surprise crossed Joseph's face, followed by a frown. It seemed there were more revelations in store for him this day. At her house that day, while he sat chatting with her son, his cousin, she had known…

Gustav eyed his friend with concern. "The girls will certainly want to come as well, but I promise they won't, unless you so desire. They want to make this as easy as possible for you, Joseph. We all do."

"Thank you," Joseph said, adding nothing more, overwhelmed by the fact that he now had family…and could speak openly of them.

Still silent, Clarisse stared at her hands. Gustav set his cup down. "I'll let the two of you talk. If you will excuse me, I'm going to find that nice, young lady Charlotte and see if she can direct me to a bite of breakfast." With a slight groan, he stood, pushing on his knees to help himself get going. "No- don't get up. I can find my way."

At the door, he paused. "Your acknowledgement is in writing and is legally witnessed and binding, Joseph. You see, I visited Morley last week for a little chat. His death will be formally announced in about-" the king glanced at his watch "-an hour. However, I will have the public declaration of your succession postponed until tomorrow. We can delay it no longer than that, I'm afraid, what with all the legal turmoil."

He studied Joseph intently, trying to gauge the man. Hesitantly, he asked, "Would you like for me to contact Margaret and tell her I've spoken with you?"

Joseph nodded. "Yes, please. If they will accept me, would very much like to meet my family."

Relieved by Joseph's answer, Gustav thought of the call and the celebration it would cause. "I've no doubt they will overjoyed." He laughed aloud. "Your cousin Kent- you'll like him, by the way- is probably frantic with dread that he'll get saddled with the title and all the legal and financial chaos the estates are in."

On that cheery and encouraging note, the king left.

Joseph sighed and leaned his head against the back of the couch. "I am so sorry, Clarisse. I should have told you before we married."

"Going up the aisle there was hardly time to," she replied, staring across the room at a large poinsettia plant, but not seeing its hues of burgundy and green.

Closing his eyes, he balled his hands into fists. It would be a disaster when word of all this got out! The media would have a field day with it. Mia's pre-wedding antics would pale in comparison and in the middle would be Clarisse, innocently dragged through the mud as if she would not have enough humiliation already- all due to him. How could she ever look at him with love again?

"I know this will be embarrassing for both you and the country, Clarisse, and I do not want you to endure the shame that news of this will bring." He stopped, recalling her appalled stare. Joseph spoke quickly and without fully considering what he was saying. "I'm sure the Lord Archbishop and the Chief Justice will assist us quietly, if you prefer we not continue…"

His words trailed off unsteadily at the prospect of losing Clarisse and all the happiness he had found. There was only silence between them.

_

* * *

  
_

_Dear God! Joseph was the son of that dreadful man. _

Conflicting passions tore through Clarisse's heart, colliding with each other, preventing her from giving full attention to Joseph's words. _Morley Addington had not acknowledged his own son._ Fury welled inside of her. What kind of monster would ignore his own child except to embarrass him in front of others?

What kind of hell had Joseph endured through the years, knowing his father had rejected him…to have family yet be unable even to hint that you are of their blood? How had he survived?

Her heart breaking, she gazed at her husband's ramrod straight back. All this time he had lived with this knowledge, wondering why neither his father nor mother loved him, and most likely believing he was to blame. She had family who had always cared for and supported her; what would her life been like had they turned their backs? How had he endured being so utterly alone?

She recalled her visit to Margaret and Everett Howe. Joseph had accompanied her, knowing who they were. Closing her eyes, she remembered the visit of Bettina's daughters, Cassandra and Lucinda, Joseph's half-sisters. Joseph had acted as their driver during their stay, escorting them to the shops, seeing that their visit was a comfortable one. Confined to the shadows, he was unable to enjoy what she took for granted.

_"… not want you to endure the shame…if you prefer we not continue…"_

Suddenly, she realized what he was trying to say. "Never!" she said, reaching to grasp his hand.

Joseph pulled away from her and walked to the window. "Clarisse, not only did you marry a commoner, but you married the bastard son of a man who didn't want him and a woman who abandoned him." He laughed bitterly. "I am hardly worthy company for a queen."

Slowly, Clarisse approached him. She stopped several feet away, hands clasped in front of her at her waist. "Joseph, please look at me," she said softly. "Please." Reluctantly, he did.

"I married a man I had come to admire immensely and trust absolutely over the years," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I married a man who is honest and true to what he believes is right."

Slowly, she closed the distance between them. "A man who helped me realize I had a duty to myself…and opened my heart to love."

Clarisse laid her hand on his arm. "I love you, Joseph, for the man _you_ are, and _nothing_ will ever change the way I feel."

For a very long moment, Joseph stood silently considering her words. Could she truly not care about the circumstances of his birth? He looked at her eyes and saw the truth. He touched her cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped, and smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "I don't deserve you."

"Oh, yes you do!" she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms, wanting to drive away all his doubts and pain. Joseph's arms went around her and he clung to her, desperate for the assurance she offered, and they held each other silently, in a pool of morning light, for a very long time.

* * *

"Do you think the title can be salvaged? Should it be?" Joseph asked later that afternoon while having coffee with his wife and Gustav. He and Clarisse had spent over an hour talking that morning. At her encouragement, he had confided more and he felt as if a burden no longer rested on his shoulders. The knowledge that she loved him for himself was already healing those wounds of many years.

"In all honesty, I think your excellent reputation can go a long way, provided it is made known you are now in control." Gustav laughed. "The media Clarisse has enlisted to her cause can handle that part extremely well."

"I did not know," Clarisse protested, regretting yet again her calling in the press. Gustav had explained why he had backed out of his legal commitments, fearing Addington's death was close at hand, and not wanting to damage Joseph's inheritance any more than necessary. Because it was personal, he felt he had no right to disclose any information about Joseph's relationship to Addington. After consideration, she had to agree; Gustav had been caught in the middle, and his decision was the only one he could honorably make.

Gustav patted her hand. "I know you didn't, my dear," he soothed. "I've already called Stefan and explained the situation- he is delighted, by the way. He contacted the news outlets, promising them an even better story tomorrow."

Joseph groaned. "That is all I need."

"Don't worry," Gustav continued, rubbing his hands together. "We shall use the attention to our advantage to announce the news of your inheritance and to start undoing the bit of a tangle the estate is in. As for the future of the title, it would be a shame for it to die an ignoble death in law courts scattered across the continent and the Channel. If you want my advice, Joseph-"

"I certainly do."

"Then I would suggest you settle the lawsuits in anyway possible- sell off properties and assets as necessary, but maintain the oldest core of the estate- and then go one step further."

"Contributions to various charities and organizations?" Joseph suggested over the rim of his cup.

"Yes."

Joseph took a sip then nodded. "That's what I thought was best, too." He paused. "Will I, as the titleholder, be held responsible for his actions?"

Gustav drew a deep breath. "I'm not the best one to give legal advice, but it's my opinion that even though the title itself carries a legal responsibility, you personally will not be- whatever difference that will make. But," Gustav hurriedly added, "be assured that I will do everything I can to see that you are not, and I believe you can count on Stefan and other members of the European Kingdoms Consortium to do the same. We all want to get this settled."

"Thank you. I am in your debt."

Gustav chuckled in amusement. "No, no you don't understand! We thank you! You taking on the title and responsibility and working to straighten out the mess has earned our unending gratitude."

"Then let's hope it works out for both sides," Joseph said, having his doubts. The estate was in more of a mess than he first believed it to be.

"I'm sure it will," Clarisse said, taking Joseph's hand.

"And now, if you will excuse me," Gustav announced, coming to his feet. "I must get back to my home." He waved away their thanks. "Only too glad to do it. You know, Joseph, you are now technically a citizen of both our countries. I may be calling on you for advice," he added with a smile.

"You are welcome to any assistance I can give," Joseph replied, assisting his wife to stand.

"We will be seeing you on New Year's Eve, won't we?" Clarisse asked.

"Oh, yes, most certainly," Gustav answered. "I'm, er, well, that is…I'm bringing a guest, if you don't mind," he stammered.

"Not at all," Clarisse immediately replied, wondering what had flustered Gustav so. More to the point, whom was he bringing? "We look forward to seeing you and your friend."

"Yes, we- that is, I am looking forward to the evening, as well," Gustav said. "Ah, if I may, I'd like to speak with Miss Kutaway before I leave."

Clarisse's eyebrow rose, but only directed him to the second door down the hall where he would find Charlotte.

* * *

Making sure all was at the ready for King Gustav's departure, Shades cast one last glance over the limo parked under the portico, and then nodded to Mel before going to notify Charlotte. Cerneland's king was a personal friend of Her Majesty and had been a guest often, but protocol had to be followed.

He found Hans outside Charlotte's office, the door closed.

"Her Majesty's in her office with Joseph, but the king is in there," Hans explained, jerking his thumb toward the door. "Alone."

"With Charlotte? What for?" Shades demanded.

"Don't know," Hans said, watching his boss for his reaction. "Said he wanted to speak with her privately." When the muscle in Shades' jaw twitched, Hans added, "They've been in there for a _long_ time."

Just then, the door opened, and Hans quickly reached for it, holding it for the couple as Shades stepped back, out of the way. A smiling Gustav, his hand resting lightly on the small of Charlotte's back, gestured gallantly for her to go before him.

"Please do think about my offer, my dear," Gustav said, following her out into the hallway. He leaned closer. "You would find Cerneland a lovely place to live."

"It is very tempting," she said, ignoring Shades standing at Hans' side. "I will certainly consider it, Your Majesty," she added, as they moved away.

Trailing behind them, Shades tried to figure out just what the king had proposed.

Notified that King Gustav was leaving, Clarisse and Joseph headed to the receiving area adjacent to the portico. They met Gustav in the hall just outside the guest washroom. Suddenly, there were shouts.

Slipping ahead of them, Joseph motioned for them to stay back. He warily entered the reception room, and then stopped with a look of surprise on his face. Clarisse and Gustav hurried to join him, curiosity getting the better of them. On the far side of the long chamber, Shades and Charlotte, unmindful of the crowd their raised voices were attracting, were going at it toe to toe.

"And just what did King Gustav want with you?" Shades demanded, his hands on his hips.

"It was personal," Charlotte said loftily, busily marking on her clipboard and ignoring the fact that she had just mistakenly written on the notes for Christmas Day dinner. "It had nothing to do with you."

"I heard what he said. He wants you to move to there, doesn't he?" Shades exclaimed. "Just how 'personal' was this invitation?"

"And what do you mean by that?" she countered, raising her voice to match his.

"I think it's pretty clear what he wanted," Shades shot back. "He's known for hitting on beautiful young women."

Behind Joseph, Gustav huffed indignantly. "Am not," he muttered.

"Are, too," Clarisse whispered. Being called on it, Gustav shrugged.

"Can't help it if they find me attractive," he answered, sucking in his substantially slimmer belly. He had been dieting.

"For your information, not that it is any of your business, King Gustav offered me a job," Charlotte retorted.

"A job?" he repeated. "You would leave Genovia?"

"Obviously, the position would be in Cerneland," Charlotte answered, as if talking to a moron.

Shades looked at the ceiling then the woman he loved. "You cannot leave Genovia," he growled, his voice low.

"Oh, so now you're telling me what to do?" Charlotte leaned closer. "Why shouldn't I?" she asked, poking him hard in the chest with each word.

"Because I love you, woman, and want to marry you!" Shades grabbed her hand and pulled her to him.

"You're serious?" she squeaked.

"Of course, I am. You ought to know that after all these years," he retorted, as if she were a dimwit.

"Well, that's just it- in all these years I don't ever recall you bringing the matter up before now."

Shades snorted impatiently. "What do I have to do- get down on my knees and beg?"

Charlotte smiled. "No, just ask nicely."

Muttering under his breath, Shades got down on one knee. After fishing around in his pocket for a moment, he pulled out a small jewelry case and flipped it open. He took a breath.

"I didn't know exactly what you would want but thought you might like this one so I got it and was going to give it to you tonight or tomorrow or maybe on Christmas or-"

"Shades," Charlotte said, warningly.

"Oh, all right." He took another deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. He took her hand and looked at her. "Miss Charlotte Kutaway, the love of my life, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she answered immediately. With a sigh of relief, Shades hauled himself to his feet, and then pulled her back into his arms. The kiss went on for a full two minutes, and the couple did not pry themselves apart until Clarisse, Gustav, Joseph, Hans, Anton, and a dozen others who had gathered to watch burst into applause.

"Well, I guess I just lost my new Chief of Staff," Gustav laughed, following the others to congratulate the newly engaged couple.

* * *

Sitting alone in the library, on a snowy Christmas Eve morning, Joseph stared at the crackling fire. Across the room, the family tree twinkled with brightly colored lights- a beautiful tree covered with heirloom ornaments passed down in Clarisse's family. It was just a year ago that he had sat with her, sharing cocoa, and had made the decision to ask her to marry him. He took a swallow of his coffee. It had certainly been an interesting year since. A most extraordinary twenty-four hours, too.

Just two hours earlier that morning, Cerneland's Minister of Affairs had released news of his succession and a carefully crafted account of his relationship to the deceased duke. Simultaneously, his Genovian counterpart had issued a brief statement from the palace ending with a request for privacy for the royal couple. As Gustav predicted, the media had jumped on the story and run with it. Joseph had not watched the reports; too many concerns preyed upon his mind and spirit.

His thoughts in the past, he recalled times during his life when having a father would have been helpful. Despite years of telling himself he did not care about his father, he could not help but wonder if both their lives would have been for the better had Morley Addington not rejected him. Or, would they have been for the worse?

He liked to think that he could have influenced his father, yet he had no basis for believing such a thing. Granted, other than the two instances they had met, everything he knew about his father had come second-hand. Had his father had any redeeming qualities? Everyone must have. What characteristics of Morley Addington had he himself inherited? He did not look like his father, at least he did not see any resemblance in the picture the newspaper had printed the previous evening. Nevertheless, a person's strengths and weaknesses lay deeper than simple appearances.

The library door opened, and he heard a light step on the thick carpet as someone entered. Joseph took another sip of his drink, his gaze still fixed on the fire.

"May I come in?" Clarisse asked softly from across the room. Turning to look, Joseph sat up.

"Of course, my dear," he replied, setting his cup aside. Clarisse crossed the room and sat down beside him, keeping a slight distance between them as she perched on the sofa's edge.

"I didn't know if you wished for company or not," she said, taking his hand. He smiled then lifted her hand to his lips.

"Your company is always my joy," he answered. She settled next to him and he put his arm around her. Both watched the fire in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Clarisse," he asked slowly, "what do you remember of my father?"

Surprised at his question, and his referring to Morley Addington as his father, Clarisse lifted one shoulder. "Well, other than meeting him a few times while Bettina was alive, I rarely saw him." When Joseph did not reply, she continued. "I do recall he was rather an angry sort of man- he took little joy in what was going on around him."

Silent, he continued staring at the fire as Clarisse studied his profile. While the shock of discovering her husband was the son of Morley Addington was still fresh, she was trying very hard to deal with the news in a calm manner. The situation, she knew, must be much harder for Joseph. She touched his cheek then smoothed the graying hair along his temple. He had helped her so many times over the years- the deaths of Rupert and then Philippe, dealing with her fears concerning Mia and herself.

Joseph sighed. "I just can't help wondering… There are so many unknowns. Despite his absence in my life, he's part of my past."

"And your future, too," she said with a smile. He cocked his head to the side quizzically and Clarisse stood, gesturing for him to stay where he was. "I know someone who can help answer your questions."

Opening the door, she stepped aside to reveal Margaret Howe, and behind her, Cassie and Lucinda. Through tears, Clarisse watched the reunion of her husband and his family, her heart full of love. This was, she thought, as the women surrounded Joseph, was the best Christmas ever.

* * *

At eight o'clock sharp that evening, Anton sauntered into the main hall, ready to relieve his associate staffing the palace reception desk.

"Have a good Christmas? How's your aunt?" Hans asked from his comfortable chair. A nearly empty glass of eggnog and a plate scattered with crumbs sat on a small tray in front of him. "She send us another pie?" he asked hopefully.

"Christmas was good, she's fine, and she sent two pies, as a matter of fact," Anton replied tossing his jacket in the closet of their small cubicle. Returning from an overnight visit to his father's maiden sister, who lived in a small, isolated hamlet several hours away, he looked forward to a quiet evening shift at the palace. "A lemon and an apple. I stashed them in our fridge downstairs."

Hans sighed. "She sure is a good cook!"

"Don't I know it," Anton answered, rubbing his stomach. "I don't think I'll be hungry for a week." He flopped down in the extra chair beside the desk. "Any cookies left?"

"Nah. Ate them all." Hans leaned back and crossed him arms. "You been keeping up with the news lately?"

"Nope. What's up?"

"Oh, not too much," Hans drawled. "You're on with Pearson tonight so that Mel can spend tomorrow with his kid, Lionel's back from college for a couple of weeks- so watch out, and…let's see…Shades finally popped the question."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope." Hans lowered his voice. "He and Charlotte got in a shouting match over King Gustav's offer of a job in Cerneland and Shades ended up on one knee- right in the middle of the Reception Hall."

"Poor sap," Anton said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to get trapped into proposing until I'm good and ready," he declared.

Hans studied him with a slight smile. "You think so?"

Anton managed to swagger, despite the fact he was sitting on a metal folding chair. "Damn straight. Nobody's going to force me into getting married."

"Uh, huh," Hans grunted skeptically. As nonchalantly as possible, he added, "By the way, some visitors arrived earlier today."

"Well, it is Christmas Eve, you know. Lots of people coming by to sample the pear cider," Hans said, rummaging in the drawer for any leftover candy. Finding only an empty package, he tossed it in the trash. He checked the next drawer. "Anything else?"

"I think you know one of the visitors- Cassie Addington."

Anton's head came up. "_What_? Cassie's here?"

"Yep. Arrived with her sister, an aunt, and an uncle."

"Why? She didn't mention plans to come when I talked with her a few days ago."

"Maybe she couldn't bear waiting three more weeks before you and she hooked up, Romeo," Hans quipped, enjoying toying with his friend.

"Could be," he answered seriously, causing Hans to roll his eyes. A crumbling cookie in hand, Anton thought for a moment. "Then again, her mother was a friend of Her Majesty's, and there's a garden in Pyrus dedicated to her. Maybe it has something to do with that."

Hans laughed. "Yeah, maybe. Here," he said, reaching for a folded paper, "take this message for Joseph up to the library for me while I sign off the shift log. They're all up there, so maybe you can sneak in a quick squeeze from your girl."

"Shades sees me squeezing anything, he'll have me by my boots," Anton retorted, taking the paper and heading toward the stairs.

"Or by something else," Hans called out to his friend's retreating back, wishing he could be a fly on the wall in the library for the next ten minutes. "Might not be Shades you have to worry about, old buddy!"

From the sounds coming from the library, Anton thought there must be a two dozen people in there all talking at once. He nodded to Shades, who was sitting outside the closed door with work schedules in his lap. "You want to work a double shift?" Shades asked, flipping through the stack of papers. "And did you bring-"

"Yes, she sent two pies," Anton broke in. "And, no I don't want to work a double."

"Somebody has to. Well, your girl's in there," Shades said, setting the papers down. Anton grinned and stood a bit taller.

"Couldn't wait to see me, I suppose."

"Right. So anxious, she dragged the whole family here." Shades grinned knowingly. "You here for a purpose?"

Anton waved the sheet of paper. "Got a message for Joseph. Thought I might get a moment with Cassie, too."

"Well, you go right on in, Casanova. As a matter of fact, I'll come in with you- wouldn't want to miss such a touching reunion," Shades said, agreeably. He dumped the papers back in his briefcase and stood.

"Oh, there's something you should know about Cassie," Shades added thoughtfully, reaching ahead to open the door. He placed a guiding hand on Anton's shoulder and steered him through the doorway. Cates, filling a tray of glasses with champagne, nodded to the two men as they stepped inside.

"What's that?" Anton asked, his eyes sweeping the room for his ladylove. "Cassie's reserved a private nook in the west wing for us?"

"Not quite," answered Shades slowly. Then laughing, Shades slapped him on the shoulder and whispered, "Turns out she's Joseph's sister _and_ he's now the Duke of Thornfield."

Across the room, the lady in question spotted her beau and squealed his name, bringing conversation to a halt as everyone turned to look at him. From his seat on the sofa, Joseph pinning Anton with a piercing look. In shock, Anton stared back, mouth open.

"Anton! Isn't it just absolutely wonderful?" the lithe young woman exclaimed, clearing an ottoman in one smooth leap on the run. She threw herself at him, and he had the wits about him to catch her. "Joseph's my brother!"

"Oh, my God," Anton breathed.

Joseph stood, still eyeing the couple with a solemn expression.

"Oh, Joseph! This is just too incredible," the petite Cassie cried, grabbing her six-foot four-inch fiancé by the sleeve. She dragged him to stand in front of her brother. "In just three weeks, Anton and I are moving in together."

Staring forebodingly at the bigger, younger man, Joseph replied softly, "Is that so?"

* * *

"Now, really, Joseph," Clarisse said, following her husband into the palace library. "Do you think this is necessary?"

"She is my sister," was all he said; he thought that reason should be clear enough.

"Well, yes, but they're two young people in love," she replied. "I understand it's not uncommon these days-"

"Clarisse," Joseph cut her off abruptly, rounding on her. "If you wish to stay, you may, however, I must ask you not to interfere." He took a seat behind the massive mahogany desk and gestured to Shades, who went to the library door and opened it.

Seeing the look on her husband's face, she took a seat in another chair, to the side. "I think it better I stay."

Shades crooked a finger to Anton, who had been nervously waiting outside. "Go get 'em, lover-boy," he whispered as Anton passed. Anton took a deep breath, and then stepped forward as the doors closed ominously behind him.

Elbows on the chair's armrests, his finger interlaced, Joseph simply stared at the man who wished to shack up with his sister. Anton shifted his weight from one foot to the other…then back. Joseph continued to stare.

Fearing the young man in danger of fainting under her husband's intimidating scrutiny, Clarisse delicately cleared her throat. Joseph shot a warning glance at her.

"So, you care about my sister and you have been visiting her in London," Joseph stated, turning his dark eyes back to Anton. "I'm assuming the two of you are…close."

Aware of exactly what Joseph was asking, Anton thought it best to neither deny nor admit to being on intimate terms with Joseph Coraza's youngest sister. "Well, we…uh, we…"

"What are your intentions?" Joseph asked sharply.

"I, that is, um… Casssie and I, we love each other…," Anton managed to stammer.

"Do you indeed?" Joseph replied slowly. He continued with words deceptively soft, "Am I to understand you wish to cohabit before making your marriage vows?"

The younger man took a breath. _Be strong! You are your own man! You make your own decisions._ "Well, sir, to be honest-" Anton stopped suddenly as Joseph's eyes narrowed.

Except for the ticking of the clock above the mantle, there was absolutely no other sound in the room. Anton licked his dry lips. "Sir," he said, drawing himself up to his full height, "I respectfully request your permission to marry your sister Miss Cassandra Addington as soon as possible."

Satisfied, Joseph nodded. He stood. "That can be arranged."

"We look forward to you joining us for Christmas Eve dinner this evening, Anton." Clarisse said, smiling warmly, coming to her husband's side.

"You may speak with Cassie today," Joseph generously added.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, ma'am," Anton said reaching across the desk to shake Joseph's offered hand. He back away and quickly crossed to the library's doors and shut them behind him. Outside, Anton collapsed back, the door rattling with his weight, and closed his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath.

"Gonna get married?" Shades guessed. Anton nodded. Shade put his hand on Anton's shoulder comfortingly. "Welcome to the club."

From behind the door, they heard laughter.

* * *

_AN: Finally, Clarisse knows! Well, the next chapter is the last one. It's rather sweet, a lovely way to end the series, I think. I've had fun writing this and feel rawther sad now that it's done... I hope you enjoyed it as well._


	13. Chapter 13

**Disney/Buena Vista and Meg Cabot own all rights. No infringement is intended on their rights and I make no profit, other than your kind words.**

* * *

_"This is Elsie Penworthy reporting outside the palace of the Genovian Royal Family as guests continue to arrive from across the continent for the Royal New Year's Eve Ball! Topping the guest list this year is Her Majesty's own husband Joseph- the Duke of Thornfield! Rumors are flying fast and furious about the new duke- keep your ear here because we'll be bringing you the best of them!_

_Sources have confirmed that Joseph made a low-keyed visit to his estate in Cerneland two days ago in the company of King Gustav, however there's no word yet if he and Queen Clarisse will move into the sprawling medieval castle after she gives up the throne. We are also told that he has requested talks between himself, Europe's largest banks, and representatives of several European nations be scheduled for the second week of January. It appears His Grace wishes to quickly address the litigation pending against his title. In response, the six European governments have offered to withdraw their suits, pending the outcome of the meetings. Certainly that's good news for our Prince Joseph!_

_On the personal side- and we do like to get personal!- Princess Mia has been seen lately in the company of that dishy Nicholas Devereaux! Is there a royal romance heating up during these cold winter nights? We don't think they'll be camping out by the lake in this weather like they did last summer!_

_Speaking of romances, Charlotte Kutaway, secretary to Queen Clarisse will marry Her Majesty's Head of Security, popularly known as 'Shades.' The couple plan to tie the knot on Valentine's Day…such a romantic wedding date, to be sure!_

_Well, it seems there's just something about being a royal secretary that gets a girl a man! Lily Moscovitz, privy secretary our future queen, has been keeping steady company with Captain Kip Kelly of Her Majesty's Royal Militia. Hmmm. Will she beat her royal boss to the alter? As soon as Elsie knows, Elsie will tell!_

_Arriving earlier this evening was the Duke and Duchess of Kenilworth, who are expecting a child in July. Andrew Jacoby, you may recall, was dropped at the alter by Princess Mia. It seems he didn't fall far! Surprisingly, their marriage misadventure didn't ruin a perfectly good friendship…the princess and her almost-husband claim to be the best of friends. As proof, the princess has agreed to be godmother to the couple's baby._

_The music's starting at the ball and the queen has arrived, so it's time for me to say goodnight for now. Remember: keep your sunny side up! _

* * *

Queen Clarisse Gerard Renaldi Coraza gazed with pride at her granddaughter as Amelia chatted easily with those surrounding her. The New Year's Eve gathering at the palace was a tradition, as was the New Year's Day reception held in town for all Genovians. Tonight, the palace ballroom was filled with guests from Genovia, as well as Europe. She knew that Amelia was nervous about the coronation in two days, but none of her nervousness showed in the slightest. The young woman was, Clarisse felt sure, going to cope beautifully with her new position. Joseph was been right; Amelia would make a fine queen.

She saw Nicholas hand Mia a glass of water and the two exchange smiles. After the incident the past summer, Nicholas had gone to London to begin work on his Master's degree. Upon his return in early December, he had contacted Mia and the two had seen each other on several occasions in the past weeks. Unknown to Mia, Nicholas had requested an audience a week ago with Clarisse and Joseph, formally apologizing for his part in his uncle's scheme and asking permission to court their granddaughter. Leaving the matter with Joseph, Clarisse had excused herself; the two men had spent over and hour in the library together.

Since then, Nicholas had called on Mia on three occasions, each time making sure he informed Joseph where they were going and what time they would return. Joseph, in turn, had directed Shades to add another agent to Mia's entourage. Clarisse thought the move directed more as a reminder to Nicholas than out of concern for their granddaughter's safety. Her husband, she had found, had both obvious and covert ways of accomplishing what he wanted.

But, she had to admit Mia looked happy when with Nicholas, and the more she got to know him, the more she liked him. If Joseph was satisfied with the young man's suitability, then she had no objections. Who knows? Perhaps in a few years there would be great-grandchildren filling the halls of Stone Manor. If so, they would be ready for them.

They were moving into their home by the end of the month, despite the fact that there was still minor work to be done. As work progressed, Clarisse had discovered she did not mind the thought at all and being in their home would make her decorating decisions much easier. She had enjoyed planning the décor, drawing up plans for her gardens, and choosing fabrics, and Stone Manor already felt as if it were their home. She had even seen her horses already settled into their new stable and quarters. Joseph had confessed that the last time he had ridden was as a youth, and she had promptly volunteered her services for riding lessons, warning him that she was a hands-on type of teacher. He readily accepted.

But, above all, she wanted to be with her husband in their own home.

She was pleased the Cates would be accompanying them and that their staff would be minimal. Joseph had insisted that during the course of a normal day, while on their own property and he was present, she did not need a personal guard physically at her side. She suspected his desire for privacy was behind this. Perhaps he had a point, she conceded. A horseback ride to that deserted cabin with her husband would be so much more fun if they were _alone_. Clarisse smiled.

Laughter across the room drew her attention. By the twenty-five foot blue spruce, decorated with traditional Genovian hand-blown golden pear ornaments, the entire Helmar family was sorting themselves out for the next round of dances.

Marcus Helmar and his sister Maria Helmar Warren were wonderful, as was their children and grandchildren, and Clarisse was very grateful Joseph had their friendship during all the past years. She saw how they loved him and accepted him into their family. Joseph, it seemed, was considered a favorite uncle by the grown children and the tradition was being kept alive by the very youngest generation. There was always one or two Helmars or Warrens following him about.

Earlier that day, Joseph had brought Julia Warren's young daughter and Lucinda's two children to the room to show them the Christmas tree. Seeing the area set up for the orchestra, the three girls had made Joseph promise to dance with them. Prior to the start of the ball that afternoon, when they orchestra assembled to practice, he had requested they play the Hokey-Pokey. The girls had been delighted, and most of the adults had joined in as well. Apparently, the Hokey-Pokey was a tradition with the Helmars and had something to do with Julia's decision to become a ballerina, as best as Clarisse understood. All in all, it had been a great deal of fun.

The area under the room's main chandelier was crowded with couples. Following a short distance behind Stefan and Helene, Gustav waltzed by, beaming with pride. In his arms was Ginny Monts, wearing a very glittery, very large heirloom diamond. That afternoon the two had confided to her that an announcement of their engagement would be made just after the first of the year. She was extremely pleased for her friend; Gustav had been a widower for longer than she had been a widow. With all her heart, Clarisse hoped the couple would be as happy as she and Joseph.

Near the edge of the crowd, so that they had plenty of room, Joseph danced with his aunt, carefully spinning her around to the older woman's great delight. Margaret Howe had spent the week with her and Joseph, as had his sisters, giving them the chance to get to know one another. It had taken three of those days for Margaret to stop crying. But, once the tears of joy had dried, the elderly woman had kept them in stitches for the next four days relating stories about his sisters, her son, other relatives, and even herself. One story in particular seemed too improbable: Maggie had claimed to have donned a disguise and spied on Joseph, who was with a beautiful woman, of course, from behind bushes in an art museum restaurant. Insisting that the story was true, she had brought out a small flying toy from her carry-on sized handbag and handed it to Joseph. The look on Joseph's face told everyone that Her Grace, Margaret Addington Howe, the Duchess of Creshwell, had indeed played 007. Impressed, Joseph stated he wished he had her on staff when he worked with Interpol.

True to Gustav's prediction, Maggie's son Kent Howe was extremely relieved to have avoided the Addington bullet, so to speak. He was also at the party, accompanied by his wife and two sons. The boys were young teenagers, and when they learned of Joseph's career in the British Army and his work with Interpol, the hero worship began. They had already wrung from him, not that it was hard to do, promises to take them to a shooting range and a dozen stories about his exploits. He had even told the story of their chance meeting in Brussels- leaving in the part where she had so effectively disabled him, causing her to blush and Joseph to take her in his arms and kiss her right in front of everyone. Between the two boys and the little girls following Joseph's every step, he rarely had any time to himself…and he was loving every minute of it, she knew.

Near Joseph and Maggie, Lucinda, being several months pregnant and not feeling up to dancing, watched her husband do his best to dance with their two young daughters at once, a girl standing on each of his feet, clinging to his hand as he stomped around in circles. Their unborn boy child was to be named Joseph, the parents had announced the previous evening to the family's delight. Clarisse believed 'Joseph' was going to be a favorite name in the family for several generations to come.

Close by, a very self-conscious Anton stood with his arm around Cassandra, talking with her uncle, Everett Howe. The young couple had chosen to marry on the last weekend in January, and Cassie came to dinner two night ago sporting an engagement ring they had picked out that morning in Pyrus. To Anton's surprise, Joseph had taken up his cause with Everett and Kent, recounting Anton's virtues along with several slightly exaggerated accounts of bravery, for Cassie's uncle and cousin.

As the music died, hoots of laughter rang out and Clarisse glanced toward the line of chairs fronting the French doors. Kent's seventeen year-old daughter clapped a hand over her mouth, covering her laugh and braces, and with her other hand hauled back and punched Lionel good-naturedly in the arm. The shaggy-haired young man, resplendent in his powder blue tux with yellow piping and ruffled shirt, rubbed his shoulder and grinned like a love-smitten fool in return. Kent, watching from several paces away, rolled his eyes and shook his head. Clarisse looked away, down to her clasped hands, not wanting him to see her amusement.

In the light, her simple gold band gleamed- a symbol of her most precious blessing. With Joseph now the Duke of Thornfield, he had a very serious set of problems confronting him, and Clarisse refused to allow him to face them alone. Just as he had supported her, she would do the same for him. Accompanied by Gustav, he had made his first visit to his family's home in Cerneland to sign documents and make arrangements, and even though she had offered to go, he wanted the trip to be focused only business and of short duration. Going directly to his father's library to sign the necessary documents in his father's library and then leaving immediately thereafter, he had not viewed any other part of the house. However, when he returned in two weeks to spend several days meeting with the estate's creditors and petitioners, she would be at his side.

And because she _could_ be at his side, her heart was full of joy.

The past months had been wonderful. She had come to understand that although she was a queen with a duty to her country and people, she was also a woman who had every right to her own life and happiness. In two days she would hand over the crown and country to a very capable young woman…and she was looking forward to it. It was a new beginning and there was a whole world waiting for her and Joseph.

Clarisse smiled. As if reading her mind, he appeared at her side.

"How are you, my dear?" he asked softly, taking her hand. He lifted it to his lips and let it linger there for a long moment before lowering it to his side, his eyes meeting hers. She saw concern and longing in them and knew the passion he felt was for her- and only her.

"I'm fine," she assured him, squeezing his hand. "I am content and happier than any woman has a right to be."

"You have every right to be happy," he replied. "So, you are having a nice time, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, the queen is very much enjoying her last official occasion," she answered. "It appears everyone else is, too," she added, glancing around as a new waltz began. She thought he was going to suggest they dance, but he didn't. Instead, he gestured to a passing waiter for two glasses of champagne.

"Gustav and Ginny will be hosting their own ball soon," she said taking the glass he offered. He touched the rim of his glass to hers. The champagne was cool and the bubbles tickled her nose.

"We shall dance at more than one wedding in the coming months, it appears." He gestured to a couple dancing in a world of their own.

"Yes, I'm so happy for Charlotte. They are a lovely couple," Clarisse sighed. "I had to make it my expressed wish that Shades dance with her this evening- and he even took of his sunglasses!" She looked back to her husband, frowning. "Joseph, just why does everyone call him Shades? It's rather odd, I must say."

Joseph laughed quietly. "Well, it seems that his name is actually Seymour and as a child, his friends would tease him about his glasses- as in 'see more.' So, he started wearing sunglasses- shades...and the name stuck. He prefers it, actually."

"Well, Charlotte certainly is happy. She was offered a job with the Diplomatic Corps, but turned it down," Clarisse said. She took another sip before continuing. "She did not want to travel- not with Shades being gone often with Mia. I think they hope to start a family soon since they are both a bit older." She gave Joseph an amused smile. "You may have yet another little girl following you about."

He shook his head. "Nearly tripped over one of them today," he groused. But Clarisse knew better and laughed. They watched their friends and family dancing for a few minutes while finishing their champagne.

"Mia is doing very well," he finally commented, a smile touching the corner of his mouth. After seeing him somber and restrained for so many years, she loved seeing him smile.

"Yes, she is," she answered. She took a sip, watching as Nicholas spun her granddaughter on the dance floor, and then pull her close. Both young people dissolved into laughter as they tried to get back into the rhythm of the music. "You were right about her, you know."

He lifted an eyebrow as if to say 'of course'. "I would say that she has everything under control, wouldn't you?" he replied, taking her empty glass. Joseph lowered his voice and leaned closer to her ear. "No fires, no runaway horses…no crawling under the tables."

"Yes, I suppose I would agree," she answered, laughing. A waiter paused to take the flutes from Joseph. When he had left, Joseph took her hand in his.

"Then, would you mind spending a few moments with your husband…alone?"

"Now? It is almost midnight and-"

"And Mia is well able to lift a glass to toast the occasion," he interjected firmly.

Clarisse glanced hesitantly around the room full of people. "Well, I suppose so…"

"Very good, my dear," he said quickly, leading her to a side room, which was empty but for Cates and two footmen. Behind them, Hans stood in the doorway, blocking it.

"I don't understand." Clarisse looked to Joseph as the Cates held out her heaviest long coat for Joseph to take. "Are we leaving?"

"Just a short stroll in the garden, my love." He held the coat as she slipped one arm into its sleeve, then the other.

"The garden? _Are you serious?_"

"Yes, I am," he answered, taking the scarf from the footman.

After she'd fastened her coat, Joseph wrapped the scarf over her head and around her neck, tucking it in. He handed her he gloves. Quickly donning his own coat, he dismissed the men with a nod and a word of thanks.

"We'll be missed- there'll be talk of this in the kitchen, you know," she said, pulling on her gloves. Honestly! Joseph had her doing all sorts of scandalous things! She fought back a giggle. The coming years would surely be interesting and never boring.

"My dear, there has always been talk of you and me," he replied mildly. He kissed her quickly then took her arm in his and gestured to the doors that led outside. "Shall we?"

Moonlight glittered on the fresh snow like millions of tiny blue diamonds, and the cold, crisp air was absolutely still. Joseph thought that it so quiet one could almost hear the angels in heaven singing.

Not that he needed to. Heaven, for him, was at her side. He let go her hand and put his arm around Clarisse protectively, in case she slipped. Earlier, he'd had the walkways scraped clear and instructed Miguel to have the grounds-keeping staff check it during the evening. Still, he would rather be safe…and it was a good reason to hold her.

He loved touching her. Whether holding her close after passionately making love or sitting shoulder to shoulder in the limousine, Joseph still marveled at the fact that he could. After years of simply watching and offering only an assisting hand in the line of duty, he was free to show his affection for her. It was even now, at times, an overwhelming thought.

"This is just lovely," she whispered, taking in the beauty of the garden. Behind the curtained French doors, figures twirled past.

"Better than inside?" he asked, slowing his steps as they came to a corner in the path.

"Yes, because you are here," she replied. His arm around her waist tightened and he turned to face her. She saw desire flame in his eyes and he kissed her roughly, taking her breath away as he pulled her close. His tongue touched her lips and she parted them. He had never kissed her this way, had never sought to pleasure her in this manner before… Clarisse slid her hand behind his neck, wanting more…demanding more…

Reluctantly, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He took her hand. "Come, mi amor. I have something to show you," he whispered, leading her up the steps and into the gazebo.

"Oh, Joseph!" He let her go as she spun around in delight. Surrounding them were dozens of flickering candles that cast dancing shadows out onto the snow. "It is beautiful!"

He caught her in his arms as she turned to him. "For you, my queen."

"How I do love you!" she said, eyes glimmering in the candlelight.

"You have my heart." Joseph gently wrapped his arms around his wife and held her, this time fighting to keep his passion in check.

"All those empty years…I never knew what love truly was," Clarisse said, sniffling. He wiped away a tear from her cheek and kissed her.

"Neither of us would change the past," he said firmly. "We are together, now. That's all that matters."

She nodded, and he brushed another tear away with his thumb.

"You are all that matters…" He pressed his lips to hers, feeling their softness. She melted against him, yielding as he deepened the kiss, again losing himself in the taste and feel of her. This time, it was Clarisse who wordlessly demanded entrance; her tongue touched his, caressing…

There was no one else in the world but them….

Faintly, from a distance, they slowly became aware of bells tolling. It was midnight. With a sigh, Clarisse laid her head against his chest.

"A very happy New Year, Clarisse, my love," he said softly.

She gazed lovingly up at her husband. "With you it is, my dearest Joseph."

**_The end._**


End file.
